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The  California  Birthday  Book 


LIBRARY 

OF  THK 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


GIFT    OF 


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^        C/ass 


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THE  CALIFORNIA  BIRTHDAY  BOOK 


THE  CALIFORNIA 

BIRTHDAY  BOOK 


Prose  and  Poetical  Selections  from  the  Writings 
of 

Living  California  Authors 

with  a  Brief  Biographical  Sketch  of  each 


Edited  and  Arranged,  with  an  Introduction,  by 
GEORGE  WHARTON   JAMES 


ARROYO    GUILD    PRESS 
LOS    ANGELES,    CALIFORNIA 
1  909 


OF  THE 

'..:      •'"  •     ,    ,     . 


Copyright,  1909,  by 
GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES 


To  the  dearest  and  best 
Literary  Partner 
man  ever  had : 

MY   WIFE 

whose  critical  discernment  and  fine  judgment 

have  materially  aided  in  making  the 

selections  for  this  book 


208715 


CALIFORNIA— GOD'S    COUNTRY. 

California— land  of  the  brightest  dreams  of  our 
childhood;  of  the  passionate  longings  of  our  youth; 
of  the  most  splendid  triumphs  of  our  manhood.  Cali 
fornia—land  of  golden  thoughts,  of  golden  hills,  of 
golden  mines,  and  of  golden  deeds. 


INTRODUCTORY 

F^HIS  BOOK,  as  its  title-page  states,  is  made  up  of  selec- 
1  tions  from  the  writings  of  California  authors.  Most  of 
the  selections  refer  to  California— her  scenic  glories, 
mountains,  valleys,  skies,  canyons,  Yosemites,  islands,  foot 
hills,  plains,  deserts,  shoreline ;  her  climatic  charms,  her 
flora  and  fauna,  her  varied  population,  her  marvellous  pro 
gress,  her  wonderful  achievements,  her  diverse  industries. 
Told  by  different  authors,  in  both  prose  and  poetry,  the 
book  is  a  unique  presentation  both  of  California  and  Cali 
fornia  writers.  The  Appendix  gives  further  information 
(often  asked  for  in  vain)  about  the  authors  themselves  and 
their  work.  It  is  the  hope  of  the  compiler  that  the  taste 
given  in  these  selections  may  lead  many  Californians  to  take 
a  greater  interest  in  the  writings  of  their  fellow  citizens,  and 
no  interest  pleases  an  author  more  than  the  purchase,  com 
mendation,  and  distribution  of  his  book. 

If  this  unpretentious  book  gives  satisfaction  to  the  lovers 
of  California,  both  in  and  out  of  the  State,  the' compiler  will 
reap  his  highest  reward.  If  any  suitable  author  has  been 
left  out  the  omission  was  inadvertent,  and  will  gladly  be 
remedied  in  future  editions. 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES. 
1098  North  Raymond  Avenue 

Pasadena,  California. 
October,  1909. 


THE  CALIFORNIA  BIRTHDAY  BOOK 


CALIFORNIA. 

Hearken,  how  many  years 
I  sat  alone,  I  sat  alone  and  heard 

Only  the   silence   stirred 

By  wind  and  leaf,  by  clash  of  grassy  spears, 
And  singing  bird  that  called  to   singing  bird. 

Heard  but  the  savage  tongue 
Of  my  brown  savage  children,  that  among 
The  hills  and  valleys  chased  the  buck  and  doe, 

And  round  the  wigwam  fires 
Chanted  wild  songs  of  their  wild  savage  sires, 
And  danced  their  wild,  weird  dances  to  and  fro, 
And  wrought  their  beaded  robes  of  buffalo. 

Day   following  upon  day, 
Saw   but   the    panther    crouched   upon   the    limb, 

Smooth    serpents,    swift    and    slim, 
Slip  through  the  reeds  and  grasses,  and  the  bear 

Crush  through  his  tangled  lair 
Of  chaparral,  upon  the  startled  prey! 

Listen,  how   I  have   seen 

Flash   of   strange   fires   in  gorge   and   black   ravine ; 
Heard  the  sharp  clang  of  steel,  that  came  to  drain 

The  mountain's  golden  vein — 

And  laughed  and  sang,  and   sang  and  laughed   again, 
Because  that  "Now,"  I  said,  "I  shall  be  known ! 

I  shall  not  sit  alone, 
But  shall  reach  my  hands  into  my  sister  lands ! 

And  they?    Will  they  not  turn 
Old,   wondering  dim  eyes  to  me  and  yearn- 
Aye,  they  will  yearn,   in   sooth, 
To  my  glad  beauty,   and  my  glad,   fresh   youth." 

INA  D.  COOLBRITH,  in  Songs  from  the  Golden  Gate. 


LET  Us  MAKE  EACH  DAY  OUR  BIRTHDAY. 

WRITTEN   ESPECIALLY   FOR  THE  CALIFORNIA   BIRTHDAY  BOOK. 

Let  us  make  each  day  our  birthday, 

As  with   each  new   dawn  we   rise, 
To  the  glory  and  the  gladness 

Of  God's   calm,   o'erbending   skies ; 
To  the   soul-uplifting  anthems 

Of   Creation's    swelling   strains, 
Chanted  by  the  towering  mountains, 

Surging  sea,  and  sweeping  plains. 

Let  us  make  each  day  our  birthday — 

Every  morning  life  is  new, 
With  the  splendors  of  the  sunrise, 

And   the   baptism  of  the   dew ; 
With   the  glisten  of  the   woodlands, 

And  the   radiance   of  the   flowers, 
And  the  birds'  exultant  matins, 

In  the  young  day's  wakening  hours. 

Let  us  make  each  day  our  birthday, 

To  a  newer,  holier  life, 
Rousing  to  some  high  endeavor, 

Arming  for  a  nobler  strife, 
Toiling  upward,   looking  Godward, 
Lest  our  poor  lives  be  as  discords, 

In   Heaven's  symphony  of  love. 

S.  A.  R.,  College  Notre  Dame,  San  Jose,  Cal. 
11 


JANUARY  1. 

A   NEW  YEAR'S   WISH. 
May    each    clay    bring    thee    something 
Kair    to    hold    in    memory — 
Some   true   light  to   shine 
Upon   thee  in   the  after  days. 
May  each  night  bring  thee  peace, 
As  when  the  dove  broods  o'er 
The  young  she  loves ;   may  day 
And   night  the   circle   of 
A    rich   experience   weave 
About   thy   life,   and   make 
Tt  rich  with  knowledge,  but  radiant 
With   Love,  whose  blossoms  shall  be 
Tender  deeds. 

HELEN  VAN  ANDERSON  GORDON. 


JANUARY  2. 

THE  MIKAO.E  ON  THE  CALII-ORNJA  DESERT. 
To  the  south  the  eye  rests  upon  a  vast  lake,  which 
can  be  seen  ten  or  twelve  miles  distant  from  the  slopes 
of  the  mountains,  and  when  I  first  saw  it,  its  beauty 
was  entrancing.  Away  to  the  south,  on  its  borders, 
were  hills  of  purple,  each  reflected  as  clearly  as  though 
photographed,  and  still  beyond  rose  the  caps  and  sum 
mits  of  other  peaks  and  mountains  rising  from  this  in 
land  sea,  whose  waters  were  of  turquoise ;  yet,  as  we 
moved  down  the  slope,  the  lake  was  always  stealing 
on  before.  It  was  of  the  things  dreams  arc  made  of, 
that  has  driven  men  mad  and  to  despair,  its  bed  a 
level  floor  of  alkali  and  clay,  covered  with  a  dry,  im 
palpable  dust  that  the  slightest  wind  tossed  and  whirled 
in  air. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK  HOLDER,  in  Life  in  the  Open. 


JANUARY  1. 


JANUARY  2. 


JANUARY  3. 

When  the  green  waves  come  dashing, 
With   thunderous    lashing, 

Against  the  bold  cliffs  that  defend  the  scarred  earth, 
He  wheels  through  the  roaring, 
Where   foam-flakes   are  pouring, 
And  flaps  his  broad  wings   in   a  transport  of  mirth. 

JOSIAH  KEEP, 
in  The  Song  of  the  Sea-Bird,  in  Shells  and  Sea-Life. 


JANUARY  4. 

A  long  jagged  peninsula,  where  barren  heights  and 
cactus-clad  mesas  glow  in  the  biting  rays  of  an  unob- 
scured  sun,  where  water  holes  are  accorded  locations 
on  the  maps,  and  where,  under  the  fluttering  shade  of 
fluted  palm  boughs,  life  becomes  a  siesta  dream.  A 
land  great  in  its  past  and  lean  in  its  present.  A  land 
where  the  rattlesnake  and  the  sidewinder,  the  taran 
tula  and  the  scorpion  multiply,  and  where  sickness  is 
unknown  and  fivescore  years  no  uncommon  span  of  life. 
A  land  of  strange  contradictions !  A  peninsula  which 
to  the  Spanish  conquistador  es  was  an  island  glistening 
in  the  azure  web  of  romance ;  a  land  for  which  the 
padres  gave  their  lives  in  fanatic  devotion  to  the 
Cross ;  a  land  rich  in  history,  when  the  timbers  of  the 
Mayflower  were  yet  trees  in  the  forest.  Lower  Cali 
fornia,  once  sought  and  guarded  for  her  ores  and  her 
jewels,  now  a  veritable  terra  incognita,  slumbering,  un 
noticed,  at  the  feet  of  her  courted  child,  the  great 
State  of  California.  Lower  California,  her  romance 
nigh  forgotten,  her  possibilities  overlooked  by  enter 
prise  and  by  the  statesmen  of  the  two  republics. 
ARTHUR  W,  NORTH,  in  The  Mother  of  California. 
14 


JANUARY  3. 


JANUARY  4. 


15 


JANUARY  5. 
Above   me    rise   the   snowy   peaks 

Where  golden   sunbeams  gleam  and  quiver, 
And   far  below,   toward   Golden   Gate, 
^  O'er  golden  sand  flows  Yuba  River. 
Through  crystal  air  the  mountain  mist 
Floats   far  beyond  yon  distant  eagle, 
And  swift  o'er  crag  and  hill  and  vale 
Steps  morning,  purple-robed  and  regal. 

CLARENCE  URMY,  in  A   Vintage  of  Verse. 


JANUARY  6. 

With  the  assistance  of  Indians  and  swinging  a  good 
axe  himself,  the  worthy  padre  cut  down  a  number  of 
trees,  and,  having  carried  the  logs  to  the  Gulf  Coast, 
he  there  constructed  from  them  a  small  vessel  which 
was  solemnly  christened  El  Tr  in  info  dc  la  Cms. 

Let  Ugarte  be  remembered  not  only  as  a  man  of 
fine  physique,  the  first  ship-builder  in  the  Californias. 
but  as  an  ardent  Christian,  a  wise  old  diplomat  and  a 
fearless  explorer.  He  stands  forth  bold,  shrewd  and 
aggressive,  one  of  the  most  heroic  figures  in  early  Cal 
ifornia  history.  *  *  * 

At  the  same  time  that  l:garte  was  exploring  the 
Gulf  of  California,  Captain  George  Shevlock  of  Kng 
land  was  cruising  about  California  waters  engaged  in 
a  little^  privateering  enterprise.  On  his  return  to  Eng 
land,  Shevlock  set  forth  on  the  charts  that  California 
was  an  island.  This  assertion  was  not  surprising,  for 
at  this  time  a  controversy  was  raging  between  certain 
of  tfie  Episcopal  authorities  on  the  Spanish  Main  as  to 
which  bishopric  las  Islas  Californias  belonged !  Guada 
lajara  was  finally  awarded  the  "island." 

ARTHUR    W.  NORTH,  in  The  Mother  of  California. 


JANUARY  5. 


JANUARY  6. 


17 


JANUARY  7. 
CALIFORNIA. 
A  sleeping  beauty,  hammock-swung, 

Beside  the  sunset  sea, 
And  dowered  with  riches,  wheat,  and  oil, 

Vineyard  and  orange  tree; 
Her  hand,  her  heart  to  that  fair  prince 

Whose  genius  shall  unfold 
With   rarest  art  her  treasured  tales 
Of  life  and  love  and  gold. 

CLARENCE  URMY,  in  A   Vintage  of  Verse. 

JANUARY  8. 
BACK  TO  CALIFORNIA. 

To  the  Californian  born,  California  is  the  only  place 
to  live.  Why  do  men  so  love  their  native  soil?  It  is 
perhaps  a  phase  of  the  human  love  for  the  mother. 
For  we  are  compact  of  the  soil.  Out  of  the  crumbling 
granite  eroded  from  the  ribs  of  California's  Sierras 
by  California's  mountain  streams— out  of  the  earth 
washed  into  California's  great  valleys  by  her  mighty 
rivers — out  of  this  the  sons  of  California  are  made, 
brain,  and  muscle,  and  bone.  Why  then  should  they 
not  love  their  mother,  even  as  the  mountaineers  of 
Montenegro,  of  Switzerland,  of  Savoy,  love  their  moun 
tain  birthplace?  Why  should  not  exiled  Californians 
yearn  to  return?  And  we  sons  of  California  always 
do  return;  we  are  always  brought  back  by  the  potent 
charm  of  our  native  land— back  to  the  soil  which  gave 
us  birth— and  at  the  last  back  to  Earth,  the  great 
mother,  from  whom  we  sprung,  and  on  whose  bosom 
we  repose  our  tired  bodies  when  our  work  is  done. 
JEROME  A.  HART,  in  Argonaut  Letters. 


18 


JANUARY  7. 


JANUARY  8. 


19 


JANUARY  9. 

T.ivE  ME  CAI.H-OKNY. 

Blizzard    back    in    York    state 

Sings    its   frosty   tune, 
Here  the  sun  a-shinin,' 

Air   as   warm   as   June. 
Snow  in  Pennsylvany, 

Zero  times  down  East, 
Here   the   flowers  bloomin', 
A  feller's  eyes  to  feast. 
*     *     *     * 

Its  every  one  his  own  way, 

The  place  he'd  like  to  be, 
But  give  me  Californy — 

It's  good  enough  for  me. 
TOHN  S.  McGROARTY,  in  Just  California. 


JANUARY  10. 

If  Mother  Nature  is  indeed  as  we  see  her  here, 
broad-browed  and  broad-bosomed,  strong  and  calm- 
calm  because  strong—  swaying  her  vain  brats  by  un 
ruffled  love,  not  by  fear;  by  wise  giving,  not  by  priva 
tion  ;  by  caresses  and  gentle  precepts,  not  by  cuffs  and 
scoldings  and  hysterics—  why,  then  she  shall  better  jus 
tify  our  memories  and  the  name  we  have  given  her. 
It  'is  well  that  our  New  England  mothers  had  a  differ 
ent  climate  in  their  hearts  from  that  which  beat  at 
their  windows.  I  know  one  Yankee  boy  who  never 
could  quite  understand  that  his  mother  had  gone  home 
till  he  came  to  know  the  skies  of  California. 

CHARLES  F.  LUMMTS, 

in  The  A'/V/  Uand  of  ///,-  Continent,  Out  ll'esl, 
June,  1902. 


20 


JANUARY  9. 


JANUARY  10. 


JANUARY  11. 

California,  the  orchid  in  the  garden  of  the  states,  the 
warm  motherland  of  genius,  the  land  of  enchantment, 
the  land  of  romance,  the  land  of  magic;  California,  the 
beautiful  courtezan  land,  whose  ravishing  form  the 
enamored  gods  had  strewed  with  scarlet  roses  and  white 
lilies,  and  buried  deep  in  her  bosom  rich  treasure ;  Cali 
fornia  began  the  twentieth  century  with  another  tale, 
fantastic,  incredible.  *  *  * 

Until  the  oil  was  discovered  the  land  had  been  worth 
from  one  to  four  dollars  an  acre,  but  now  offers  were 
made  for  it  from  five  hundred  to  as  many  thousands. 
MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER,  in  The  Giants. 

JANUARY  12. 

A   CALIEORNIAN  TO  His   OLD  HOME. 
I  oft  feel  sad  and  lone  and  cold 

Here  in  the  Golden  West, 
When  I  recall  the  times  of  old, 

And  fond  hearts  laid  to  rest ; 
The  gladsome  village  crowd  at  e'en, 

The  stars  a-peeping  downf> 
And  all  the  meadows  robed  in  green 

Around  Claremorris  Town. 

^  JJ5  *  *  # 

This  is,  in  truth,  a  lovely  sphere, 

A  heaven-favored  clime, 
Here    Nature   smiles  the  whole   long  year, 

'Tis  summer  all  the  time, 
With  spreading  palms  and  pine  trees  tall 

And   grape-vines   drooping  down — 
But  gladly  would  I  give  them  all 

For  you,  Claremorris  Town. 

LAURENCE  BRANNICK. 

22 


JANUARY  11. 


JANUARY  12. 


•23 


JANUARY  13. 

The  rslahlishiiirnl  dl"  ihe  Mission  of  S;ml;i  Calarina 
marks  the  close  of  what  may  well  he  termed  the  third 
period  of  Lower  California  history.  It  is  a  period  re 
markable  for  progress  rather  than  for  individual  act 
ors.  The  great  Junipero  Scrra  passes  quickly  across 
the  stage,  figuring  as  a  man  of  physical  endurance  and 
a  diplomat — not  as  an  explorer  or  a  founder  of  many 
missions.  His  most  historic  act  on  the  Peninsula  was 
performed  when  he  drew  a  line  of  division  between 
the  territory  of  the  Dominicans  and  the  Franciscans, 
lie  is  a  link  between  the  two  Californias. 

ARTHUR  W.  NORTH,  in  The  Mother  of  California. 


JANUARY  14. 

To  THE  V.  S.  CRUISER  CALIFORNIA. 
Godspeed   our   namesake   cruiser, 

Godspeed  till  the  echoes  cease 
'Fore  all  may  the  nation  choose  her 

To   speak   her   will   for   peace. 
That    she  in  the  hour  of  battle 

lk-r  western  fangs  may  show. 
That    from   her  broadsides'  rattle 

A    listening   world   may   know — 
She's   more  than  a   fighting  vessel, 

More  than  mere  moving  steel, 
More  than  a  hull  to  wrestle 

With  the  currents  at  her  keel ; 
That   she  bodies  a   living  spirit, 

The   spirit   of   a    state, 
A   people's   strength  and  merit, 

Their    hope,    their    love,    their    fate. 

HAROLD  S.  SYMMKS. 

24 


JANUARY   U 


JANUARY  14. 


JANUARY  15. 
CALIFORNIA  AND  ITALY. 

More  and  more  it  becomes  apparent  to  me  that  the 
Climate  of  California  spoils  one  for  any  other  in  the 
world.  If  Californians  ever  doubt  that  their  winter 
weather  is  the  finest  in  the  world,  let  them  try  that 
of  sunny  Italy.  If  they  have  ever  grumbled  at  their 
gentle  rains,  brought  on  ine  wings  of  mild  winds  from 
the  south,  let  them  try  the  raw  rain,  hail,  snow,  and 
sleet  storms  of  sunny  Italy.  And  then  forever  after 
let  them  hold  their  peace. 

JEROME  A.  HART,  in  Argonaut  Letters. 


JANUARY  16. 

I  see  thee  in  this  Hellas  of  the  West, 
Thy  youngest,  fairest  child,  upon  whose  crest 
Thy  white  snows  gleam,  and  at  whose  dimpled  feet 
The  blue  sea  breaks,  while  on  her  heaving  breast 

The  flowers  droop  and  languish  for  her  smile, 
Thy  grace  is  mirrored  in  her  youthful  form, 
She  lifts  her  forehead  to  the  battling  storm, 

As  proud,  as  fair  as  thou. 

*     #     *     *     * 

Like  thee,  she  opens  wide  her  snowy  arms, 

And  folds  the   Nations  on  her  mother-breast. 
The  brawny  Sons  of  Earth  have  made  their  home 
Where  her  wide  Ocean  casts  its  ceaseless  foam, 
Where  lifts  her  white  Sierras'  orient  peak 
The  wild  exultant  love  of  all  that  makes 
The  nobler  life;  the  energy  that  shakes  the  Earth 

And  gives  new  eons  birth. 

S.  A.  S.  H.  of  College  of  Notre  Dame,   San  Jose, 
in  Hellas. 

26 


JANUARY  15. 


JANUARY  16. 


JANUARY  17. 

THE  RETURN  TO  CALIFORNIA. 
Across  the  desert  waste  we  sped ; 

The  cactus  gloomed  on  either  hand, 
Wild,  weird,  grotesque  each  frowning  'head 

Uprearing  from  the  sand. 
Through  dull,  gray  dawn  and  blazing  noon, 

Like  furnace  lire  the  quivering  air, 
Till  darkness  fell,  and  the  young  moon 

Smiled    forth    serene   and    fair. 
A  single  star  adown  the  sky 

Shone  like  a  jewel,  clear  and  bright; 
We  heard  the  far  coyote's  cry 

Pierce  through  the  silent  night. 
Then   morning — bathed    in   purple    sheen; 

Beyond — the  grand,   eternal   hills  ; 
With  sunny,  emerald  vales  between, 

Crossed  by  a  thousand  rills. 
Sweet  groves,  green  pastures ;  buzz  of  bee 

And  scent  of  flower ;  a  dash  of  foam 
On  rugged  cliffs ;  the  blessed  sea, 

And   then — the   lights   of   home ! 

MARY   E.   MANNIX. 

JANUARY  18. 

Around  the  Southern  Californian  home  of  the  lov 
ing  twain  the  roses  are  in  perpetual  bloom.  The  vines 
are  laden  with  clustered  grapes,  the  peach  and  the  ap 
ricot  trees  bend  under  their  loads  of  luscious  fruit,  the 
milch  cows  yield  their  creamy  milk,  the  honey-bees 
laying  in  their  stores  of  sweet  spoil,  the  balmy  air 
breathes  fragrance,  the  drowsy  hum  of  life  is  the  music 
of  peace. 

KitMrxn  MITCHKU..   in   Only  it    .Y/<™vr. 

28 


JANUARY  17. 


JANUARY  18. 


29 


JANUARY  19. 
CALIFORNIA   SONG. 

DEDICATED  TO  GEORGE   WHARTON   JAMES. 
Proud  are  we  to  own  us  thine, 
Land  of  Song  and  Land  of  Story, 

All  thy  glory 

Round  our  heart-hopes  we  entwine, 
In  our  souls  thy  fame  enshrine, 

California ! 

Dear  to  us  thy  mystic  name, 
Leal-land;  Love-land;  Land  of  Might, 

We  would  write 
On  the  walls  of  Years  thy  fame, 
With  thy  love  a  world  inflame, 

California ! 

Dear  to  us  thy  maiden  grace, 
Dear   thy   queenly   Motherhood, 

Fain  we  would 

Keep  the  sun-smiles  on  thy  face, 
Worthy  live  of  thy  strong  Race, 

California ! 

Land  of  Beauty  !     Blossom-land  ! 
Land  of  Heroes,   Saints  and   Sages, 

Let  the  Ages 

Witness  all  thou  canst  command 
From  each  loyal  heart  and  hand, 

California ! 

S.  A.  S.  H. 

JANUARY  20. 

I  always  appreciate  things  as  I  go  along,  for  no 
knowing  whether  you'll  ever  go  the  same  way  twice  in 
this  world. 

ALBERTA  LAWRENCE,  in  The  Travels  of  Phoebe  Ann. 

30 


JANUARY  19. 


JANUARY  20. 


JANUAKY  2\. 
MOUNT   TAM AI.I-AIS. 
Monk1   of   the   elements — where  battling   hands 

Of  clouds  and  winds  the  rocks  defy — 
Mute  yet  great,  old  Tamalpais  stands 

Outlined  against  the  rosy  sky. 
Tlis  darkened  form  uprising  there  commands 

The  country  round,  and  every  eye 
From  lesser  hills  he  strangely  seems  to  draw 
With  lifted  glance  that   speaks  of  wonder  and  of  awe. 
It  is  the  awe  that  makes  us  reverence  show 

To  men  of  might  who  proudly  tower 
Above  their  fellow-men  ;  the  glance  that  we  bestow 

On  one  whose  native  force  and  power 
Have  lifted  him  above  the  race  below — 

The  pigmy  mortals  of  an   hour — 
We  almost  bend  the  knee  and  bow  the  head 
To  the  mighty  force  that  marks  his  kingly  tread. 
*     #     *     *     # 

MRS.  PHIIJP  VERRIIX  MIGHELS, 
in  Readings  from  the  California  Poets. 

JANUARY  22. 

Broadly  speaking,  California  is  the  only  elective 
State.  Its  people  are  not  here  because  their  mothers 
happened  to  be  here  at  the  time ;  not  as  refugees  ;  not 
as  ne'er-do-wells,  drifting  to  do  no  better;  not  even, 
in  bulk,  as  joining  the  scrimmage  for  more  money. 
They  have  come  by  deliberate  choice,  and  a  larger  pro 
portion  of  them,  and  more  single-heartedly,  for  home's 
sake  than  in  any  other  as  large  migration  on  record. 
CHARLES  F.  LUMMIS, 

in    The    Ritfit    Hand    of    the    Continent,    Out    West, 
August,   1902. 

32 


JANUARY  21. 


JANUARY  22. 


JANUARY  23. 
Is  there  any  kind  of  climate, 

Any  scene  for  painter's  eye, 
The  Almighty  hath  not  crowded 

'Neath  our  California  sky? 
Is  there  any  fruit  or  flower, 

Any  gem  or  jewel  old, 
Any  wonder  of  creation 

This  Garden  doth  not  hold— 
From  the  tiny  midget  blossom 

To  the  grand  Sequoia  high, 
With    its    roots   in   God's    own    country 

And  its  top  in  God's  own  sky? 
FRED  EMERSON  BROOKS,  in  Old  Abe  and  Other  Poems. 

JANUARY  24. 
A  MENDOCINO  MEMORY. 
I   climbed  the  canyon  to  a  river-head, 
And  looking  backward  saw  a  splendor  spread, 
Miles  beyond  miles,  of  every  kingly  hue 
And  trembling  tint  the  looms  of  Arras  knew — 
A  flowery  pomp  as  of  the  dying  day, 

A  splendor  where  a  god  might  take  his  way. 
***** 

It  was  the  brink  of  night  and  everywhere 
Tall  redwoods  spread  their  filmy  tops  in  air; 
Huge  trunks,  like  shadows  upon  shadow  cast, 
Pillared  the   under   twilight,   vague   and  vast. 
***** 

Lightly   I   broke  green  branches   for   a   bed, 
And  gathered  ferns,  a  pillow  for  my  head. 
And  what  to  this  were  kingly  chambers  worth — 
Sleeping,  an  ant,   upon  the   sheltering  earth. 
EDWIN  MARKHAM,  in  Lincoln  and  Other  Poems. 
34 


JANUARY  23. 


JANUARY  24. 


35 


JANUARY  25. 
CALIFORNIA. 

Queen   of  the   Coast,   she  stands   here   emerald  crowned, 

Waiting  her  ships  that  sail  in  from  the  sea, 

Fairer  than  all  the  western  world  to  me, 

Is  this  young  Goddess  whom  the  years  have  found. 

Ocean  and  land,   with   riches   rare  and  sweet, 

Loyally  bring  their  treasures  to  her  feet; 

In  her  brave  arms  she  holds  with  proud  content 

The  varied  plenty  of  a  continent; 

In  her  fair  face,  and  in  her  dreaming  eyes, 

Shines  the  bright  promise  of  her   destinies; 

Winds  kiss  her  cheek,  and  fret  the  restless  tides, 

She  in  their  truth  with  faith  divine  confides, 

Watching  the  course  of  empire's  brilliant  fate, 

She  looks   serenely  through  the  Golden  Gate. 

•  ANNA  MORRISON  REED. 

JANUARY  26. 

Here  was  our  first  (and  still  largest)  national  ro 
mance,  the  first  wild-flower  of  mystery,  the  first  fierce 
passion  of  an  uncommonly  hard-fisted  youth.  To  this 
day  it  persists  the  only  glamour  between  the  covers 
of  "our  geography.  For  more  than  fifty  years  its  only 
name  has  been  a  witchcraft,  and  its  spell  is  stronger 
now  than  ever,  as  shall  be  coolly  demonstrated.  This 
has  meant  something  in  the  psychology  of  so  unfanci- 
ful  a  race.  The  flowering  of  imagination  is  no  trivial 
incident,  whether  in  one  farm  boy's  life  or  in  a  peo 
ple's  It  may  be  outgrown,  and  so  much  as  forgotten  ; 
but  "it  shalfnever  again  be  as  if  it  had  never  been. 
Without  just  that  flower  we  should  not  have  just  this 
fruit. 

CHARLES  F.  LUMMIS.  in   Out   West.  June,  1892. 


JANUARY  25. 


JANUARY  26. 


87 


JANUARY  27. 

As  time  goes  on  its  endless  course,  environment  is 
sure  to  crystallize  the  American  nation.  Its  varying 
elements  will  become  unified  and  the  weeding  out  pro 
cess  will  probably  leave  the  finest  human  product  ever 
known.  The  color,  the  perfume,  the  size  and  form 
that  are  placed  in  the  plants  will  have  their  analogies 
in  the  composite,  the  American  of  the  future. 

And  now  what  will  hasten  this  development  most 
of  all?  The  proper  rearing  of  children.  Don't  feed 
children  on  maudlin  sentimentalism  or  dogmatic  re 
ligion  ;  give  them  nature.  Let  their  souls  drink  in  all 
that  is  pure  and  sweet.  Rear  them,  if  possible,  amid 
pleasant  surroundings.  If  they  come  into  the  world 
with  souls  groping  in  darkness,  let  them  see  and  feel 
the  light.  Don't  terrify  them  in  early  life  with  the 
fear  of  an  after  world.  There  never  was  a  child  that 
was  made  more  noble  and  good  by  the  fear  of  a  hell. 
Let  nature  teach  them  the  lessons  of  good  and  proper 
living.  Those  children  will  grow  to  be  the  best  of  men 
and  women.  Put  the  best  in  them  in  contact  with  the 
best  outside.  They  will  absorb  it  as  a  plant  does  sun 
shine  and  the  dew. 

LUTHER   BURBANK. 

JANUARY  28. 

Let  us  embark  freely  upon  the  ocean  of  truth;  listen 
to  every  word  of  God-like  genius  as  to  a  whisper  of 
the  Holy  Ghost,  with  the  conviction  that  beauty,  truth 
and  love  are  always  divine,  and  that  the  real  Bible, 
whose  inspiration  can  never  be  questioned,  comprises 
all  noble  and  true  words  spoken  and  written  by  man 
in  all  ages. 

WILIJAM  DAY  SIMONDS,  in  Freedom  and  Fraternity. 

38 


JANUARY  27. 


JANUARY  28. 


JANUARY  29. 

Westward  the  Star  of  Empire!  Come  West,  young 
men!  Westward  ho!  to  all  of  you  who  want  an  oppor 
tunity  to  do  something  and  to  be  something.  Here  is 
the  place  in  the  great  Southwest,  in  the  great  North 
west,  in  all  the  great  West,  where  you  can  find  an  op 
portunity  ready  to  your  hand.  We  arc  only  3,000,000 
now.  There  is  room  here  for  30,000,000.  Where  each 
one  of  us  is  now  finding  an  opportunity  to  do  some 
thing  and  be  something  there  is  plenty  of  room  for  ten 
more  of  you  to  come  and  join  us. 

G.  W.  BURTON,  in  Burton's  Book  on  California. 

JANUARY  30. 

IN   CALIFORNIA'S   MOUNTAINS. 
'Mid  the  far,  fair  hills,  beneath  the  pines 

With  their  carpet  of  needles,  soft  and  brown, 
Dwells  the  precious  scent  of  rare  old  wines, 

Where  the  sun's  distilling  rays  pour  down  : 
Away  from  the  city,  mile  on  mile, 
Far  up  in  the  hills  where  life's  worth  while. 
There  the  rivulet  in  gladness  leaps 

Down  a  fronded  valley,  sweet  and  cool, 
Or  pausing"  a  little  moment  sleeps 

In  a  mossy,  rock-bound,  limpid  pool : 
Away  from  the  city,  mile  on  mile, 
Far  up  in  the  hills  where  life's  worth  while. 
The  wild  bird  carols  its  sweetest  lay, 

And  the  world  seems  golden  with  love's  good  cheer; 
There  is  never  a  care  to  cloud  the  day, 

And  Heaven,  itself,  seems,  oh,  so  near! 
Away  from  the  city,  mile  on  mile, 
Far  up  in  the  hills  where  life's  worth  while. 

WIT.T.IS  GEORGE  EMERSON. 

40 


JANUARY  29. 


JANUARY  30. 


11 


JANUARY  31. 

OUT  HERE  IN  CALIFORNIA. 

Out  here  in  California,  when  Winter's  on  the  scene 
And   the    earth    is   like    a   maiden    clad    in    shimmering 

robes    of    green; 
When  the  mountains  'way  off  yonder  lift  their  snowy 

peaks   to   God, 
While   here   the   dainty   flowers    raise   their   faces   from 

the  sod; 
When    the    sunbeams    kiss    the    waters    till    they    laugh 

beneath   the    rays, 
And   nature    seems    a-joining   in   a   matchless   hymn    of 

praise ; 
When  there's  just  enough  of  frostiness  a  sense  of  life 

to  give, 
Right  here  in  California  it's  a  comfort  just  to  live. 

Out  here  in  California  in  the  January  days 

The  soul  of  nature  seems  to  sing  a  jubilee  of  praise, 

And   the    songbirds    whistle    clearer,    and   the   blossoms 

are  more  fair, 
And  someway  joy  and  blessing  seem  about  us   in   the 

air. 

It's  cold  perhaps  off  yonder,  but  we  never  feel  it  here, 
For  the  seasons  run  together  through  a  Summer-haunt 
ed  year, 
And  Dame  Nature  in  her  bounty  leaves  us  nothing  to 

forgive 

Right    here    in    California,    where    it's    comfort    just   to 
live. 

42 


JANUARY  31. 


Out  here  in  California  where  the  orange  turns  to  gold 
And  Nature  has  forgotten  all  the  art  of  growing  old, 
There's   not   a   day   throughout   the   year   when   flowers 

do  not  grow ; 
Inere's  not  a  single  hour  the  streams  do  not  unfettered 

flow ; 
There's  not  a  briefest  moment  when  the  songsters   do 

not  sing, 
And  life's  a  sort  of  constant  race  'twixt  Summer  and 

the  Spring. 
Why,  just  to  know   the  joy   of  it  one   might   his  best 

years  give — 

Out  here  in  California,  where  it's  comfort  just  to  live. 

A.  J.  WATERHOUSK. 

43 


FEBRUARY  1. 

Night-time   in    California.     Elsewhere   men    only   guess 

At  the  glory  of  the  evenings  that  are  perfect — nothing 
less; 

But  here  the  nights,  returning,  are  the  wond'rous  gifts 
of  God— 

As  if  the  days  were  maidens  fair  with  golden  slippers 
shod. 

There  is  no  cloud  to  hide  the  sky ;  the  universe  is  ours, 

And   the   starlight   likes   to   look   and   laugh    in    Cupid- 
haunted  bowers. 

Oh   the    restful,    peaceful    evenings!     In   them    my    soul 
delights, 

For    God    loved   California    when    He   gave   to   her   her 

nights. 

AU'RED  JAMES  WATERHOUSE, 

in  Some  Homely  Little  SOUPS. 


FEBRUARY  2. 

There  it  lay,  a  constellation  of  lights,  a  golden  ra 
diance  dimmed  by  the  distance.  San  Francisco  the  Im 
possible.  The  City  of  Miracles !  Of  it  and  its  people 
many  stories  have  been  told,  and  many  shall  be ;  but  a 
thousand  tales  shall  not  exhaust  its  treasury  of  ro 
mance.  Earthquake  and  fire  shall  not  change  it,  ter 
ror  and  suffering  shall  not  break  its  glad,  mad  spirit. 
Time  alone  can  tame  the  town,  restrain  its  wanton 
manners,  refine  its  terrible  beauty,  rob  it  of  its  name 
less  charm,  subdue  it  to  the  commonplace.  May  time 
be  merciful — may  it  delay  its  fatal  duty  till  we  have 
learned  that  to  love,  to  forgive,  to  enjoy,  is  but  to  un 
derstand  ! 

GELETT  BURGESS,  in   The  Heart  Line. 

44 


I'ERRUAKY   1. 


FEBRUARY  2. 


ia 


FEBRUARY  3. 

INCONSTANCY. 

The  bold  West  Wind  loved  a  crimson  Rose. 

West  winds   do. 
This  dainty  secret  he  never  had  told. 

He  thought  she  knew. 
But  there  were  poppies  to  be  caressed — 
When    he    returned    from   his    fickle   quest. 
He  found  his  Rose  on  another's  breast. 
Alas !     Untrue ! 

IDA  MANSFIELD-WILSON. 


FEBRUARY  4. 

THE  FIRST  FLAG  RAISING  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
In  February,  1829.  the  ship  Brookline  of  Boston  ar 
rived  at  San  Diego.  The  mate,  James  P.  Arthur,  was 
left  at  Point  Loma,  with  a  small  party  to  cure  hides, 
while  the  vessel  went  up  the  coast.  To  attract  passing 
ships  Arthur  and  one  of  his  men,  Greene,  concluded 
to  make  and  raise  a  flag.  This  was  done  by  using 
Greene's  cotton  shirt  for  the  white  and  Arthur's 
woolen  shirts  for  the  red  and  blue.  With  patient 
effort  they  cut  the  stars  and  stripes  with  their  knives, 
and  sewed  them  together  with  sail  needles.  A  small 
tree  lashed  to  their  hut  made  a  flag-pole.  A  day  or 
two  later  a  schooner  came  in  sight,  and  up  went  the 
flag.  This  was  on  Point  Loma,  on  the  same  spot,  pos 
sibly,  hallowed  by  the  graves  of  the  seventy-five  men 
who  lost  their  lives  in  the  Bennington  explosion.  July 
21,  1905. 

MAJOR   W.    J.    HANDY. 

46 


FEBRUARY  3. 


FEBRUARY  4. 


47 


FEBRUARY  5. 
Live    for   to  day — nor  pause   to    fear 

Of   what   Tomorrow's   sun    mav    bruit;! 
To-day  has  liours  of  hope  and  cheer. 
^To-day  your  songs  of  joy  should  ring. 
The  Yesterdays  are  dead  and  gone 

A  down   the   long,   uneven   way; 
P. ut  Hope  is  smiling  with  the  dawn — 
Live   for  To-day! 

*     #     *     *     * 
Live  for  To-day!     He  wins  the  crown 

Whose   work   stands   but   the   crucial   test ! 
Who   scales   the   heights   through    sneer   and    frown 

And  gives  unto  the  world  his  best, 
Bend  to  your  task!     The   steep   slopes   climb, 
^  And  Love's  true  light  will  lead  the  wav 
To  perfect  peace  in  God's  own  time- 
Live   for  To-day! 

E.    A.    BRlNINSTOOf,. 


FEBRUARY  6. 

It  is  a  peculiar  feature  of  our  sailing  that  within  a 
few  hours  we  may  change  our  climate.  Cool,  windy, 
moist,  in  the  lower  bays;  and  hot,  calm,  and  quiet  in 
the  rivers,  creeks,  and  sloughs.  As  you  go  to  Napa, 
for  instance,  the  wind  gradually  lightens  as  the  bay 
is  left,  the  air  is  balmier,  and  finally  the  yacht  is  left  be 
calmed.  We  can,  moreover,  in  two  hours  run  from 
salt  into  fresh  water.  In  spring  the  water  is  fresh 
down  into  Suisun  Bay;  and  at  Antioch,  fresh  water  is 
the  rule.  The  yachts  frequently  sail  up  there  so  that 
the  barnacles  will  be  killed  by  the  fresh  water. 

CHARLES  G.  YALE,  in   The  Calif o ni'mn. 

48 


FEBRUARY  5. 


FEBRUARY  6. 


FEBRUARY  7. 
Across    San    Pablo's    heaving    breast 

I  see  the  home-lights  gleam, 
As  the  sable  garments  of  the  night 
Drop  down  on  vale  and  stream. 
*     #     *     * 

Hard  by,  yon  vessel  from  the  seas 

Her  cargo  homeward  brings, 
And  soon,  like  sea-bird  on  her  nest, 

Will  sleep  with  folded  wings. 
The  fisher's  boat  swings  in  the  bay, 

From  yonder  point  below, 
While  ours  is  drifting  with  the  tide, 

And  rocking  to  and  fro. 
Lucius  HARWOOD  FOOTE,  in  A  Red-Letter  Day. 

FEBRUARY  8. 

A  few  years  ago  this  valley  of  San  Gabriel  was  a 
long  open  stretch  of  wavy  slopes  and  low  rolling  hills; 
in  winter  robed  in  velvety  green  and  spangled  with 
myriads  of  flowers  all  strange  to  Eastern  eyes;  in  sum 
mer  brown  with  sun-dried  grass,  or  silvery  gray  where 
the  light  rippled  over  the  wild  oats.  Here  and  there 
stood  groves  of  huge  live-oaks,  beneath  whose  broad, 
time-bowed  heads  thousands  of  cattle  stamped  away 
the  noons  of  summer.  Around  the  old  mission,  whose 
bells  have  rung  o'er  the  valley  for  a  century,  a  few 
houses  were  grouped;  but  beyond  this  there  was 
scarcely  a  sign  of  man's  work  except  the  far-off  speck 
:>f  a  herdsman  looming  in  the  mirage,  or  the  white 
walls  of  the  old  Spanish  ranch-house  glimmering  afar 
through  the  hazy  sunshine  in  which  the  silent  land  lay 
always  sleeping. 

T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  in  Southern  California. 


50 


FEBRUARY  7. 


FEBRUARY  8. 


51 


FEBRUARY  9. 

The  surroundings  of  Monterey  could  not  well  be 
more  beautiful  if  they  had  been  gotten  up  to  order. 
Hills,  gently  rising,  the  chain  broken  here  and  there 
by  a  more  abrupt  peak,  environ  the  city,  crowned  with 
dark  pines  and,  the  famous  cypress  of  Monterey  (Cy- 
prcssns  macrocarfa.)  Before  us  the  bay  lies  calm 
and  blue,  and  away  across,  can  be  seen  the  town  of 
Santa  Cruz,  an  indistinct  white  gleam  on  the  moun 
tain  side. 

JOSEPHINE  CLU-FORD  MCCRACKIN,  in  Another  Juanita 

Los  ALTOS. 
The  lark  sends  up  a  carol  blithe, 

Bloom-billows  scent  the  breeze, 
Green-robed   the    rolling   foot-hills    rise 
And  poppies  paint  the  leas. 

HANNA  OTIS  BRUN. 

FEBRUARY  10. 
SANTA  BARBARA. 

A  golden  bay  'neath  soft  blue  skies, 
Where  on   a"  hillside  creamy  rise 
The   mission   towers,   whose   patron   saint 
Ts    Barbara — with   legend   quaint. 
HiUJ'X  ELLIOTT  BANDINI,  in  History  of  California. 

Dare  to  be  free.     Free  to  do  the  thing  you  crave  to 

\    do   and    that    craves    the    doing.      Free    to   live    in    that 

)    higher  realm  where  none   is   fit  to  criticise   save   ones 

1    self.     Free  to'  scorn  ridicule,  to, face  contempt,  to  brave 

:    remorse.     Free  to  give  life  to  the  one  human  soul  that 

;  can    demand   and   grant    such    a   boon— one's    own    self. 

MIRIAM  MICHELSON,  in  Anthony  Overman. 

52 


FEBRUARY  9. 


FEBRUARY  10. 


FEBRUARY  11. 
In  Carmel  pines  the  summer  wind 

Sings  like  a  distant  sea. 
O  harps  of  green,  your  murmurs  find 

An   echoing  chord   in   me ! 
On  Carmel  shore  the  breakers  moan 

Like   pines   that   breast   the   gale. 
O  whence,  ye  winds  and  billows,  flown 

To  cry  your  wordless  tale? 

GEORGE  STERLING, 
in  A   Wine  of  Wizardry  and  Other  Poems. 

OAKLAND — BERKELEY — ALAMEDA. 
O  close-clasped  towns  across  the  bay, 
Whose    lights    like   gleaming    jewels    stray, 
A  ruby,  golden,  splendid  way, 

When  day  from  earth  has  flown. 
T  watch  you  lighting  night  by  night, 
O  twisted  strands  of  jewels  bright, 
The  altar-fires  of  home,  alight— 

I  who  am  all  alone. 
GRACE  HIBBARD,   in  Forget-me-nots  from   California. 

FEBRUARY  12. 

On  the  Berkeley  Hills  for  miles  away 
I  went  a-roaming  one  winter's  day, 
And  what  do  you  think  I  saw,  my  dear? 
A  place  where  the  sky  came  down  to  the  hill, 
And  a  big  white  cloud  on  the  fresh  green  grass, 
And  bright  red  berries  my  basket  to  fill, 
And  mustard  that  grew  in  a  golden  mass- 
All  on  a  winter's  day,  my  dear! 

CHARLES  KEELER,  in  Elfin  Songs  of  Sunland. 
54 


FEBRUARY  11. 


FEBRUARY  12. 


FEBRUARY  13. 

TIIK   SrxsKT  Gr.\   AT  AXGKI.   ISI.AXD. 
A   touch  of  night  on   the  hill-tops  gray; 
A  dusky  hush  on  the  quivering   Bay; 
A   calm   moon    mounting  the   silent   East — 
White   slave   the   clay-god  has   released; 
Small,    scattered   clouds 
That   seemed   to   wait 
Like   sheets   of  fire 

O'er  the  Golden  Gate. 
And  under  Bonita,  growing  dim, 
With   a   seeming  pause   on   the   ocean's   rim, 
Like  a   weary  lab'rer,   smiles  the   sun 
To   the  booming  crash  of  the   sunset  gun. 

LOWEU,  OTUS  REESE. 

FEBRUARY  14. 
MY  VAT.EXTIXK. 

My  valentine  needs  not  this  day 
Of  Cupid's  undisputed  sway 
To  have  my  loving  heart  disclose 
The   love   for   her   that  brightly  glows ; 
Kor  it  is  hers  alway,  alway. 
Whate'er  the   fickle   world  may   say. 
There's  nought  within  its  fair  array 
That  for  a  moment  could  depose 

My  valentine. 

Where'er  the  paths  of  life  may  stray, 
'Mid  valleys  dark  or  gardens  gay, 
With  holly  wild  or  blushing  rose, 
Through  summer's  gleam  or  winter's  snows, 
Thou  art,  dear  love,  for  aye  and  aye. 
My  valentine. 

CUI-'KORD   HOWAUK. 

56 


FEBRUARY  13. 


FEBRUARY  14. 


FEBRUARY  15. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER'S  HOME  ON  THE  RIGHTS. 
***** 

Rugged  !     Rugged  as  Parnassus  ! 

Rude,  as  all  roads  I  have  trod — 
Yet  are   steeps   and   stone-strewn  passes 

Smooth   o'erhead,   and  nearest   God. 
Here  black  thunders   of  my  canyon 

Shake  its  walls  in  Titan  wars ! 
Here  white  sea-born  clouds  companion 

With   such  peaks  as  know  the   stars. 

***** 

Steep  below  me  lies  the  valley, 

Deep  below  me  lies  the  town, 
Where  great  sea-ships   ride  and  rally, 

And  the  world  walks  up  and  down. 
O,  the  sea  of  lights  far  streaming 

When  the  thousand  flags  are  furled — 
When  the  gleaming  bay  lies  dreaming 

As  it  duplicates  the  world. 
***** 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

FEBRUARY  16. 

I  have  watched  the  ships  sailing  and  steaming  in 
through  the  Golden  Gate,  and  they  seemed  like  doves 
of  peace  bringing  messages  of  good-will  from  all  the 
world.  In  the  still  night,  when  the  scream  of  the  en 
gine's  whistle  would  reach  my  ears,  I  would  reflect 
upon  the  fact  that  though  dwelling  in  a  city  whose 
boundaries  were  almost  at  the  verge  of  our  nation's 
great  territory,  yet  we  were  linked  to  it  by  bands  of 
steel,  and  Plymouth  Rock  did  not  seem  so  far  from 
Shag  Rock,  nor  Bedloe's  Island  from  Alcatraz. 

LORENZO  Sosso,  in  Wisdom  of  the  Wise. 
58 


FEBRUARY  15. 


FEBRUARY  16. 


FEBRUARY  17. 

We  believe  that  when  future  generations  shall  come 
lo  write  our  history  they  will  rind  that  in  this  city 
of  San  Francisco  we  have  been  true  to  our  ideals ; 
that  we  have  struggled  along  as  men  who  struggle,  not 
always  unfalteringly,  but  at  least  always  with  a  good 
heart ;  that  we  have  tried  to  do  our  duty  by  our  town 
and  by  our  country  and  by  the  people  who  look  to  us 
for  light,  and  that  history  will  be  able  to  say  of  San 
Francisco  that  she  has  been  true  to  her  trust  as  the 
"Warder  of  two  continents" ;  that  she  has  been  the 
jewel  set  in  the  place  where  the  ends  of  the  ring  had 
met ;  that  she  is  the  mistress  of  the  great  sea  which 
spreads  before  us,  and  of  the  people  who  hunger  for 
light,  for  truth,  and  for  civilization;  that  she  stands 
for  truth,  a  flaming  signal  set  upon  the  sentinel  hills, 
calling  all  the  nations  to  the  blessings  of  the  freedom 
which  we  enjoy. 

FATHER   P.   C.  YORKE, 
in   The   ll'ardcr  of  Two  Continents. 

FEBRUARY  18. 
FROM     THK    Mor. \TAIN     Tors.    LOOK  INT.    TOWARDS    SAX 

FRAXCISCO  BAY. 

From  the  mountain  tops  we  see  the  valleys  stretch 
ing  out  for  leagues  below.  The  eye  travels  over  the 
tilled  fields  and  the  blossoming  orchards,  through  the 
tall  trees  and  along  the  verdant  meadows  that  are 
watered  by  the  mountain  streams.  Beyond  the  valley 
rolls  the  ocean,  whereon  we  see  the  armored  vessels, 
and  the  pleasure  yachts,  and  the  merchant  ships,  laden 
with  the  grain  of  our  golden  shores,  sailing  under 
every  flag  that  floats  the  sea. 

LAURENCE  BRANNTCK. 

60 


FEBRUARY  17. 


FEBRUARY  18. 


FEBRUARY  19. 
THE  POET'S  SONG. 

I  gather  flowers  on  moss-paved  woodland  ways 
I  roam  with  poets  dead  in  tranced  amaze ; 
Soon  must  my  wild-wood  sheaf  be  cast  away, 
But  in  my  heart  the  poet's  song  shall  stay. 

CHARLES  KEELER,  in  A  Season's  Sowing. 

FEBRUARY  20. 

Morning  of  fleet-arrive  was  splandid.  By  early  hour 
of  day  all  S.  F.  persons  has  clustered  therselves  on  tip 
of  hills  and  suppression  of  excitement  was  enjoyed. 
Considerable  watching  occurred.  Barking  of  dogs  was 
strangled  by  collars,  infant  babies  which  desired  to 
weep  was  spanked  for  prevention  of.  Silences.  De 
pressed  banners  wras  held  in  American  hands  to  get 
ready  wave  it. 

Many  persons  in  Sabbath  clothings  was  there,  in 
cluding  1,000  Japanese  spies  which  were  very  nice  be 
haviour.  I  was  nationally  proud  of  them. 

Of  suddenly,  Oh !  !  ! 

Through  the  Goldy  Gate,  what  see?  Maglificent 
sight  of  marine  insurance !  Floating  war-boats  of  doz 
ens  approaching  directly  straight  by  line  and  shooting 
salutes  at  people.  On  come  them  Imperial  Navy  of 
Hon.  Roosevelt  and  Hon.  Hobson ;  what  heart  could 
quit  beating  at  it?  Such  white  paint — like  bath  tub 
enamel,  only  more  respectful  in  appearance.  *  *  * 

From  collected  V2  million  of  persons  on  hills  of  S.  F. 
one  mad  yell  of  star-spangly  joy.  Fire-crack  salute, 
siren  whistle,  honk-horn,  megaphone,  extra  edition, 
tenor  solo — all  connected  together  to  give  impressions 
of  loyal  panderonium. 

WALLACE  IRWIN,  in  Letters  of  a  Japanese  Schoolboy. 

62 


FEBRUARY  19. 


FEBRUARY  20. 


63 


l''Kl!Kr.\KY    21. 

CALIFORNIA  TO  THE  FLEET. 
Behold,   upon   thy  yellow   sands, 
1    wait   with   laurels    in   my   hands. 
The  Golden  Gate  swings  wide  and  there 
I  stand  with  poppies  in  my  hair. 
Come   in,   O   ships !    These   happy  seas 
Caressed  the  golden  argosies 
Of  forty-nine.     They  felt  the  keel 
Of  dark  Ayala's  pinnace  steal 
Across  the  mellow  gulf  and  pass 
Unchallenged,    under   Alcatraz. 
Not    War   we    love,    but    Peace,    and    these 
Are   but  the   White   Dove's   argosies — 
The  symbols  of  a  mighty  will 
Xo  tyrant  hand  may  use  for  ill. 

DAXJEL  S.  RICHARDSON,  in  Trail  Dust. 

FEBRUARY  22. 

The  splendors  of  a  Sierra  sunset  cannot  be  accu 
rately  delineated  by  pencil  or  brush.  The  combined 
pigments  of  a  Hill  and  a  Moran  and  a  Bierstadt  can 
not  adequately  reproduce  so  gorgeous  a  canvas.  The 
lingering  sun  floods  all  the  west  with  flame ;  it  touches 
with  scarlet  tint  the  serrated  outlines  of  the  distant 
summits  and  hangs  with  golden  fringe  each  silvery 
cloud.  Then  the  colors  soften  and  turn  into  amber 
and  lilac  and  maroon.  These  soon  assimilate  and  dis 
solve  and  leave  an  ashes  of  rose  haze  on  all  far-away 
objects,  when  receding  twilight  spreads  its  veil  and 
shuts  from  view  all  but  the  mountain  outlines,  the 
giant  taxodiums  and  the  fantastic  fissures  of  the  can 
yons  beneath. 

BEN  C.  TRUMAN,  in  Occidental  Sketches. 


FEBRUARY  21. 


FEBRUARY  22. 


ttfi 


FEBRUARY  23. 

GOLDEN  GATE  PARK  IN  MIDWINTER. 
The  dewdrops  hang  on  the  bending  grass, 

A  dragon-fly  cuts  a  sunbeam  through. 
The  moaning  cypress  trees  lift  somber  arms 

Up  to  skies  of  cloudless  blue. 
A  humming-bird  sips  from  a  golden  cup, 

In  the  hedge  a  hidden  bird  sings, 
And  a  butterfly  among  the  flowers 
Tells  me  that  the  soul  has  wings. 
GRACE  HIBBARD,  in  Wild  Roses  of  California. 

FEBRUARY  24. 

Climb  the  mountains  and  get  their  good  tidings. 
Nature's  peace  will  flow  into  you  as  sunshine  flows 
into  trees.  The  winds  will  blow  their  own  freshness 
into  you,  and  the  storms  their  energy,  while  cares  will 
drop  off  like  autumn  leaves. 

JOHN  MUIR. 

It  was  indeed  a  glorious  morning.  The  bay,  a 
molten  blaze  of  many  blended  hues,  bore  upon  its  se 
rene  surface  the  flags  of  all  nations,  above  which 
brooded  the  white  doves  of  peace.  Crafts  of  every 
conceivable  description  swung  in  the  flame-lit  fathoms 
that  laved  the  feet  of  the  stately  hills,  then  stepping 
outgone  by  one,  from  their  gossamer  night  robes  to 
receive  the  first  kiss  of  dawn. 

Grim  Alcatraz,  girdled  with  bristling  armaments, 
scintillating  in  the  sun.  suggested  the  presence  of  some 
monster  leviathan,  emerging  from  the  deep,  still  un- 
divested  of  gems,  from  his  submarine  home. 

EUGENIA  KEU.OGG,  in  The  Awakening  of  Poc calif o. 


FEBRUARY  23. 


FEBRUARY  24. 


FEBRUARY  25. 
THE  SIERRA  NEVADAS. 
They  watch  and  guard  the  sleeping  dells 

Where  ice-born  torrents  flow — 
A  myriad  granite  sentinels, 

Helmed  and  cuirassed   with  snow. 
*     *     *     *     # 

Yon   glacial  torrent's   deep,   hoarse  lute 

Its   upward  music  flings — 
The  great,  eternal  crags  stand  mute, 

And  listen  while  it  sings. 
()  mighty  range !     Thy  wounds  and  scars, 

Thy  wierd,  bewildering  forms, 
Attest  thine  everlasting  wars — 

Thy   heritage   of  storms. 
And  still  what  peace !   Serenity 

On  crag  and  deep  abyss; 
O,  may  such  calmness  fall  on  me 

When  Azrael  stoops  to  kiss. 

GEORGE  N.  LOWE. 

FEBRUARY  26. 

Tamalpais  is  a  wooded  mountain  with  ample  slopes, 
Riid  from  it  on  the  north  stretch  away  ridges  of  forest 
land,  the  out-posts  of  the  great  Northern  woods  of 
Sequoia  sempervirens.  This  mountain  and  the  moun 
tainous  country  to  the  south  bring  the  forest  closer  to 
San  Francisco  than  to  any  other  American  city.  Within 
the  last  few  years  men  have  killed  deer  on  the  slopes 
of  Tamalpais  and  looked  down  to  see  the  cable  cars 
crawling  up  the  hills  of  San  Francisco  to  the  south. 
In  the  suburbs  coyotes  still  stole  in  and  robbed  hen 
roosts  by  night. 

WILL  IRWIN,  in  The  City  Thai   IV as. 


FEBRUARY  25. 


FEBRUARY  26. 


FEBRUARY  27. 

DAWN  ON   MOUNT  TAMALPAIS. 
A   cloudless   heaven   is   bending  o'er   us, 

The  dawn  is  lighting  the  linn  and  lea; 
Island  and  headland  and  bay  before  us, 

And,  dim  in  the  distance,  the  heaving  sea. 
The  Farallon  light  is  faintly  flashing, 

The  birds   are  wheeling   in  fitful   flocks, 
The  coast-line  brightens,  the  waves  are  dashing 

And  tossing  their  spray  on  the  Lobos  rocks. 
The  Heralds  of  Morn  in  the  east  are  glowing 

And  boldly  lifting  the  veil  of  night; 
Whitney  and   Shasta  are  bravely  showing 

Their  crowns  of  snow  in  the  morning  light. 
The  town   is   stirring  with  faint  commotion, 

In  all  its  highways  it  throbs  and  thrills; 
We  greet  you!  Queen  of  the  Western  Ocean, 

As  you  wake  to  life   on   your  hundred   hills. 
The  forts  salute,  and  the  flags  are  streaming 

From  ships  at   anchor  in   cove  and   strait; 
O'er  the  mountain  tops,  in   splendor  beaming, 

The  sun  looks  down  on  the  Golden  Gate. 

LUCIUS  HARWOOD  FOOTE. 

FEBRUARY  28. 

ENOUGH. 
When  my  calm  majestic  mountains  are  piled  white  and 

high 

Against  the  perfect  rose-tints  of  a  living  sunrise  sky, 
I  can  resign  the  dearest  wish  without  a  single  sigh, 
And    let    the    whole    world's    restlessness    pass    all    un 
heeded  by. 

MARY  RUSSELL  MILLS. 

70 


FEBRUARY  27. 


FEBRUARY  28. 


71 


FEBRUARY  29. 
MAKSHAI.I.    SATXIIKKS  ON    SAN   FKAM  isro. 

How  we  all  love  a  city  that  we  have  once  content 
plated  making  our  home!  Such  a  city  to  me  is  San 
Francisco,  and  hut  for  unavoidable  duties  elsewhere. 
I  would  he  there  today.  I  loved  that  bright,  beauti 
ful  city,  and  even  the  mention  of  its  name  sends  jny 
blood  bounding  more  quickly  through  my  veins.  Thai 
might  have  been  my  city,  and  I  therefore  rejoice  in 
its  prosperity.  I  am  distressed  when  calamity  over 
takes  it_l  never  lose  faith  in  its  ultimate  success.  The 
heart  of  the  city  is  sound.  It  has  always  been  sound, 
even  in  the  early  days  when  a  ring  of  corrupt  adven 
turers  would  have  salted  the  city  of  the  blessed  herb 
with  an  unsavory  reputation,  but  for  the  care  of 
staunch  and  courageous  protectors  at  the  heart  of  it. 

San  Francisco  is  not  the  back  door  of  the  continent. 
San  Francisco  is  the  front  door.  Every  ship  sailing 
out  of  its  magnificent  bay  to  the  Orient,  proclaims  this 
fact.  San  Francisco  will  one  day  lead  the  continent. 
A  city  that  cares  for  its  poor  and  helpless,  its  children 
and  dumb  animals,  that  encourages  art  and  learning, 
and  never  wearies  in  its  prosecution  of  evil-doers— 
that  city  will  eventually  emerge  triumphant  from  every 
cloud  of  evil  report.  Long  live  the  dear  city  by  the 

Golden    Gate! 

MARSHALL   SAUNDKKS,  July,    19(iy. 


"Senor  Barrow.  I  congratulate  you."  Morale  said, 
in  his  native  tongue.  "A  woman  who  cannot  be :  won 
away  by  passion  or  by  chance,  is  a  woman  of  gold. 

GERTRUDE  B.  MILLARD. 
in  On  ///<'  Ciudad  Road,  The  Newsletter,  Jan.,  1899. 

72 


FEBRUARY  29. 


AT   Ti-iJi    i'KEsiu.o   ui-    SAM    J/KAACJMO 
The    rose    and    honey-suckle    here    entwine 
In    lovely   comradeship    their   am'rous   arms; 
Here   grasses    spread    their    undecaying   charms 
And   every   wall    is   eloquent    with   vine; 
l-ar-reaching   avenues    make    beckoning    sign, 
And  as  we  stroll  along  their  tree-lined   way, 
1  he   songster  trills   his   rapture-breathing  lav 
From   where   lu    finds  inviolable  shrine. 
And  yet,  within  this  beauty-haunted  place 
War   keeps   his   dreadful   engines   at  command. 
With  scarce  a  smile  upon  his  frowning  face, 
And   ever  ready,   un relaxing  hand 
We   start   to   see,   when   dreaming   in   these   bowers, 
A  tiger  sleeping  on  a  bed  of  flowers. 
HOWARD  ROBESOX  TAYLOR,  in  Moods  and  Other  Ver. 
73 


MARCH  1. 
THE  CITY'S  VOICE. 
A   mighty   undertone    of   mingled    sound ; 

The   cadent   tumult    rising    from   a   throng 
Of  urban  workers,  blending  in  a  song 

Of  greater  life  that  makes  the  pulses  bound. 
The  whirr  of  turning  wheels,  the  hammers'  ring 

The  noise  of  traffic  and  the  tread   of  men, 
The  viol's  sigh,  the  scratching  of  a  pen — 

All  to  a  vibrant  Whole  their  echoc^  fling-. 
Hark  to  the  City's  voice ;  it  tells  a  tale 

Of  triumphs  and  defeats,  of  joy  and  woe, 
The  lover's  tryst,  the  challenge  of  a  foe, 

A  dying  gasp,  a  new-born  infant's  wail. 
The  pulse-beats  of  a  million  hearts  combined, 

Reverberating  in  a  rhythmic  thrill— 
A  vital  message  that  is  never  still — 

A   sweeping,   cosmic   chorus,   uncon  fined. 
LOUTS   J.    STEI.LMANN, 
in  San  Francisco   Town  Talk,  December  6,  1902. 


MARCH  2. 

From  his  windows  on  Russian  Hill  one  saw  always 
something  strange  and  suggestive  creeping  through  the 
mists  of  the  bay.  It  would  be  a  South  Sea  Island  brig, 
bringing  in  copra,  to  take  out  cottons  and  idols;  a 
Chinese  junk  after  sharks'  livers;  an  old  whaler,  which 
seemed  to  drip  oil,  home  from  a  year  of  cruising  in  the 
Arctic.  Even  the  tramp  windjammers  were  deep- 
Chested  craft,  capable  of  rounding  the  Horn  or  of  cir- 
:umnavigating  the  globe;  and  they  came  in  streaked 
and  picturesque  from  their  long  voyaging. 

WILL  IRWIN,  in  The  City  That  IV as. 

74 


MARCH  1, 


MARCH  2. 


75 


MARCH  3. 
WILD  HONEY. 

The  swarms  that  escape  from  their  careless  own 
ers  have  a  wear}-,  perplexing  time  of  it  in  seeking  suit 
able  homes.  Most  of  them  make  their  way  to  the 
foot-hills  of  the  mountains,  or  to  the  trees  that  line 
the  banks  of  the  rivers,  where  some  hollow  log  or 
trunk  may  be  found.  A  friend  of  mine,  while  out 
hunting  on  the  San  Joaquin,  came  upon  an  old  coon 
trap,  hidden  among  some  tall  grass,  near  the  edge  of 
the  river,  upon  which  he  sat  down  to  rest.  Shortly 
afterward  his  attention  was  attracted  to  a  crowd  of 
angry  bees  that  were  flying  excitedly  about  his  head, 
when  he  discovered  that  he  was  sitting  upon  their  hive, 
which  was  found  to  contain  more  than  200  pounds  of 
honey. 

JOHN  MUIR,  in   The  Mountains  of  California. 

MARCH  4. 

I'imsi'iioKKsci'.NT  SKA  WAVKS,  BAT,BOA  RtfACH,  CAT,. 

*         #         :|'-         :|:         * 

Responsive   to   my  oar   and   hand, 
Touching  to  glory  sea  and  sand. 
A   glint,  a  sparkle,  a   flash,  a   flame, 
An   ecstasy  above  all  name. 
What  art  thou,  strange,  mysterious   llamc? 
Art  thou  some  flash  of  central  fire, 
So  pure  and  strong  thou  wilt  not  expire 
Tho'   plunged   in   ocean's    seething   main? 
Mayest  thou  not  be  that  sacred  flame, 
Creative,  moulding,  purging  fire, 
Aspiring,   abandoning   all   desire 
Shaping   perfection    from    Life's   pain? 
MARY  RUSSKI.I.  MIIJLS,  in  l'cllowshif>  Magazine. 

70 


MARCH  3. 


MARCH  4. 


77 


MARCH  5. 

THE  JOY  OF  THE   HILLS. 
I    ride   on   the   mountain   tops,    I    ride ; 

I  have  found  my  life  and  am  satisfied. 
***** 

I  ride  en  the  hills,  I  forgive,  I  forget 

Life's  hoard   of   regret — 

All   the   terror   and   pain 

Of   the   chafing   chain. 

Grind  on,   O  cities,  grind ; 

I  leave  you  a  blur  behind. 

I   am  lifted   elate — the  skies   expand ; 
Here   the   world's   heaped   gold   is    a   pile   of   sand. 
Let  them  weary  and  work  in   their  narrow  walls ; 
I   ride  with  the  voices  of  waterfalls! 

I   swing  on  as  one  in  a   dream ;   I   swing 

Down  the  air}7  hollows,  I  shout,  I  sing! 

The   world  is  gone  like  an   empty  word ; 

My  body's  a  bough  in  the  wind,  my  heart  a  bird. 

EDWTN  MARKHAM, 
in  The  Man  with  a  Hoe,  and  Other  Poems. 

MARCH  6. 

We  move  about  these  streets  of  San  Francisco  in 
cars  propelled  by  electric  energy  created  away  yonder 
on  the  Tuolumne  River  in  the  foothills  of  the  Sierras ; 
we  sit  at  home  and  read  by  a  light  furnished  from  the 
same  distant  source.  How  splendid  it  all  is — the 
swiftly  flowing  -cascades  of  the  Sierra  Nevadas  are  be 
ing  harnessed  like  beautiful  white  horses,  tireless  and 
ageless,  to  draw  the  chariots  of  industry  around  this 
Bay. 

CHARLES  'REYNOLDS   BROWN. 

78  ' 


MARCH  5. 


MARCH  6. 


79 


MARCH   7. 

BACK.   BACK  TO   XATURK. 
Weary!    I   am  weary  of  the-  madness  of  the  town. 

Deathly  wear)-  of  all  women,  and  all  wine. 
Hack,  back  to  Nature!    1  will  go  and  lay  me  down. 

Bleeding  lay  me  down  before  her  shrine. 
For  the  mother-breast   the   hungry  babe   must    call, 
Loudly  to  the  shore  cries  the  surf  upon   the  sea; 
Near,  Nature  wide  and  deep!  after  man's  mad  festival 
Mow  bitterly  my  soul  cries  out  for  thee  ! 

HERMAN  SCHEFFAUER,  in  Of  Both   ll'orlds. 

MARCH  8. 

Across  the  valley  was  another  mountain,  dark  and 
grand,  with  flecks  of  black  growing  chcmisai  in  clefts 
and  crevices,  and  sunny  slopes  and  green  fields  lying 
at  its  base.  And  oh,  the  charm  of  these  mountains. 
In  the  valley  there  might  be  fog  and  the  chill  of  the 
north,  but  on  the  mountains  lay  the  warmth  and  the 
dreaminess  of  the  south. 

JOSEPHINE  UIJFJ-ORD  MCCRACKIN,  in  Overland  Tales. 

The   furious   wind   that   came   driving   down   the   can 
yon    lying    far    below    him    was    the   breath    of   the    ap 
preaching  multitude  of  storm-demons.     The  giant  tree^ 
on  the  slopes  of  the  canyon  seemed  to  brace  themselve-. 
against  the  impending  assault.  *  *  * 

At  the  bottom  of  the  canyon,  the  Sacramento  River 
here  a  turbulent  mountain  stream,  and  now  a  roaring 
torrent  from  the  earlier  rains  of  the  season,  fumed  and 
foamed  as  it  raced  with  the  wind  down  the  canyon 
hurrying  on  its  way  to  the  placid  reaches  in  the  plains 
of  California. 

W.   C.   MORROW,  in   .  /    Man  :   His  Mark. 
so 


MARCH  7. 


MARCH  8. 


MARCH  9. 

THE  ROCK  DIVING  OF  MOUNTAIN  SHEEP. 
On  another  occasion,  a  flock  .  .  .  retreated  to  an 
other  portion  of  this  same  cliff  (over  150  feet  high), 
and,  on  being  followed,  they  were  seen  jumping  down 
in  perfect  order,  one  behind  another,  by  two  men  whc 
happened  to  be  chopping  where  they  had  a  fair  view 
of  them  and  could  watch  their  progress  from  top  tc 
bottom  of  the  precipice.  Both  ewes  and  rams  made 
the  frightful  descent  without  evincing  any  extraordi 
nary  concern,  hugging  the  rock  closely,  and  controll 
ing  the  velocity  of  their  half-falling,  half-leaping  move 
ments  by  striking  at  short  intervals  and  holding  hack 
with  their  cushioned,  rubber  feet  upon  small  ledges 
and  roughened  inclines  until  near  the  bottom,  wher 
they  "sailed  off"  into  the  free  air  and  alighted  on  then 
feet,  but  with  their  bodies  so  nearly  in  a  vertical  posi 
tion  that  they  appeared  to  be  diving. 

JOHN  MUIR,  in   The  Mountains  of  California. 

MARCH  10. 

The  ridge,  ascending  from  seaward  in  a  gradual  co 
quetry  of  foot-hills,  broad  low  ranges,  cross-systems, 
canyons,  little  flats,  and  gentle  ravines,  inland  dropped 
off  almost  sheer  to  the  river  below.  And  from  under 
your  very  feet  rose  range  after  range,  tier  after  tier, 
rank  after  rank,  in  increasing  crescendo  of  wonderful 
tinted  mountains  to  the  main  crest  of  the  Coast  Range, 
the  blue  distance,  the  mightiness  of  California's  west 
ern  systems.  *  *  *  And  in  the  far  distance,  finally, 
your  soul  grown  big  in  a  moment,  came  to  rest  on  the 
great  precipices  and  pines  of  the  greatest  mountains  of 
all,  close  under  the  sky. 

STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,  in    The   Mountains. 

82 


MARCH  9. 


MARCH  1C 


83 


MARCH   11. 

To  You,  MY  FRIEND. 
To  you,  my  friend,  where'er  you  he. 
Though  known  or  all  unknown  to  me ; 
To  you,   who  love  the  things  of  God. 
The   dew-begemmed  and  velvet   sod, 
The  birds  that   trill  beside  their  nest. 
"Oh,  love,  sweet  love,  of  life  is  best ;" 
To  you.  for  \vhom  each   sunset  glows. 
This  message  goes. 

To  you,  my  friend.     Mayhap  'tis  writ 
We  ne'er  shall  meet.     What   matters  it? 
Where'er  we  roam.  God's  light  shall  gleam 
For  us  on  hill  and  wold  and  stream. 
And  we  shall  hold  the  blossoms  dear. 
And  baby  lips  shall  give  us  cheer.  • 
And.  loving  these,  leal   friends  are   we. 
Where'er  you  be. 

To  voii,  my   friend,  who  kn<>\\    right   well 
That    life  is  more  than  money's  spell. 
\Yho  hear  the  universal  call, 
"Let   all  love  all.  as  He  loves  all." 
nh.  list   me  in  your  ranks  benign. 
Accept  this  fa  It 'ring  hand  of  mine 
Which,   though   unworthy.   I    extend    . 
And    hold    me    friend. 

A.  T.  WATERHOUSE. 

MARCH  12. 
Strength   is  meant    for   something  more  than  merely  to 

be  st  rong ; 

And  Life  is  not  a  lifetime  spent  in  strain  to  keep  alive. 
On  VRI.ES   F.   LUMMIS,  in   The  Transplantation. 

S4 


MARCH   11. 


MARCH  12. 


MARCH  13. 
HER  KING. 

A  winsome  maiden  planned  her  life — 
How,  when  she  was  her  hero's  wife, 
He  should  be  royal  among  men, 
And  worthy  of  a  diadem. 
Through  all  the  devious  ways  of  earth 

She  sought  her  king ; 
The   snows   of   Winter   fell  before — 

She  walked  o'er  flowers  of  vanished   Spring 
Into  the  Summer's  fragrant  heat; 
She  bent  her  quest,  with  rapid  feet/ 
Then  saddened;   still  she  journeyed  down 
The   Autumn   hillsides,  bare  and  brown, 
Through   shadowy  eves  and  golden  morns ; 
And  lo!   she  found  him — crowned  with  thorns. 
ANNA  MORRISON  REED. 


MARCH  14. 

The  area  of  San  Francisco  Bay  proper  is  two  hun 
dred  and  ninety  square  miles ;  the  area  of  San  Pablo 
Bay.  Carquinez  Straits,  and  Mare  Island,  thirty  square 
miles ;  the  area  of  Suisun  Bay,  to  the  confluence  of 
the  San  Joaquin  and  Sacramento  rivers,  is  sixty-three 
square  miles.  The  total  bay  area  is  therefore  four  hun 
dred  and  eighty  square  miles ;  and  there  are  hundreds 
of  miles  of  slough,  river,  and  creek.  A  yachtsman, 
starting  from  Alviso,  at  the  southern  end  of  the  bay, 
may  sail  in  one  general  direction  one  hundred  and 
fifty-four  miles  to  Sacramento,  before  turning.  All  of 
this,  of  course,  in  inland  waters. 

CHARLES  G.  YALE,  in  The  Californian. 

86 


MARCH   13. 


MARCH  14. 


87 


MARCH  15. 

It  \v;is  tin-  green  heart  ol  tin1  cammi.  where  ihc 
walls  swerved  hack  from  the  rigid  plain  and  relieved 
l heir  harshness  of  line  by  making  a  little  sheltered 
nook  and  tilling  it  to  the  brim  with  sweetness  and 
roundness  and  softness.  Here  all  things  rested.  Even 
the  narrow  stream  eeased  its  turbulent  down-rush  long 
enough  to  form  a  quiet  pool.  Knee-deep  in  the  water, 
with  drooping  head  and  half-shut  eyes,  drowsed  a  red- 
coated,  many-antlered  buck. 

On  one  side,  beginning  at  the  very  lip  of  the  pool, 
was  a  tin}-  meadow,  a  cool,  resilient  surface  of  green 
that  extended  to  the  base  of  the  frowning  wall.  Be 
yond  the  pool  a  gentle  slope  of  earth  ran  up  and  up 
to  meet  the  opposing  wall.  Fine  grass  covered  the 
slope — grass  that  was  spangled  with  flowers,  with  here 
and  there  patches  of  color,  orange  and  purple  and 
golden.  Below,  the  canyon  was  shut  in.  There  was 
no  view.  The  walls  leaned  together  abruptly  and  the 
canyon  ended  in  a  chaos  of  rocks,  moss-covered  and 
hidden  by  a  green  screen  of  vines  and  creepers  and 
boughs  of  trees.  Up  the  canyon  rose  far  hills  and  peaks, 
the  big  foot-hills,  pine  covered  and  remote.  And  far  be 
yond,  like  clouds  upon  the  border  of  the  sky,  towered 
minarets  of  white,  where  the  Sierra's  eternal  snows 
Hashed  austerely  the  blazes  of  the  sun. 

JACK  LONDON',  in  .III  Cold  Canyon. 

MARCH   16. 

Except  you  arc  kindred  with  those  w^ho  have  speech 
with  great  spaces,  and  the  four  winds  of  the  earth, 
and  the  infinite  arch  of  God's  sky,  you  shall  not  have 
understanding  of  the  desert's  lure. 

TDAH  MEACHAM  STROBRIDGE,  in  Miner's  Mirage  Land. 


MARCH  15. 


MARCH  16. 


MARCH  17. 

ST.  PATRICK'S  DAY  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
This  day  we  celebrate  is  a  day  of  faith,  faith  in  God 
and  the  motherland.  Tt  is  a  day  of  gratitude  to  the 
God  whose  grace  brought  our  fathers  into  the  Chris 
tian  life,  a  day  of  gratitude  to  the  nations  which  re 
ceived  our  fathers  and  blessed  them  with  the  privi 
leges  of  citizenship.  Let  us  not  mind  the  minor  chord 
of  sorrow  and  persecution.  Let  us  rather  take  the  ma 
jor  chord  of  glory  and  of  honor,  and  from  the  days 
of  scholarship  and  of  freedom  to  :he  present  mo 
ment  of  a  world's  national  power,  let  us  chant  the 
hymns  of  glory  and  sing  of  victory. 

BISHOP  THOMAS  J.  CONATY. 


MARCH  18. 

Said  one,  who  upward  turned  his  eye, 
To  scan  the  trunks  from  earth  to  sky: 
"These  trees,  no  doubt,  well  rooted  grew 
When  ancient  Nineveh  was  new  ; 
And  down  the  vale  long  shadows  cast 
When  Moses  out  of  Egypt  passed, 
And  o'er  the  heads  of  Pharaoh's  slaves 
And  soldiers   rolled  the  Red   Sea  waves. 
"How  must  the  timid  rabbit  shake, 
The  fox  within  his  burrowr  quake, 
The  deer  start  up  with  quivering  hide 
To  gaze  in  terror  every  side, 
The  quail  forsaKe  the  trembling  spray, 
When   these  old   rcots  at  last  give  way, 
And  to  the  earth  the  monarch   drops 
To  jar  the  distant  mountain-tops." 
PALMER  Cox,  in  The  Brownies  Through  California. 


(to 


MARCH  17. 


MARCH  18. 


MARCH  19  AND  MARCH  20. 

A  WINDOW  AND  A  TREE  IN  ALTADKNA. 

By  my  window  a  magician,  breathing   whispers  of  en 

chantment, 
Stands    and    waves    a    wand   above    me   till   the   flowing 

of  my  soul, 
Like  the  tide's  deep  rhythm,   rises  in   successive  swells 

that   widen 

All  my  circumscribed  horizon,  till  the  finite  fades  away; 
And    the    fountains    of    my     being     in     their     innermost 

recesses 
Are  unsealed,  and  as  the  seas  sweep,  sweep  the  waters 

of  my   soul 
Till  they  reach  the  shores  of  Heaven  and  with  ebb-tide 

bear  a  pearl 
Back   in   to  the   heart's   safe-keeping,   where   no  thieves 

break   through  nor   steal. 

*     *     *     *     # 

Bv   my   window    stands   confessor   with    his    hands   out 

stretched   to  bless   me, 

And  on  bended  knee   1  listen  to  his  low   "Absolve  te." 
Ne'er    was    mass    more    sacramental,    ne'er    confessional 

more   solemn,  [soul. 

And  the  benediction  given  ne'er  shall  leave  my  shriven 


Just    a    tree    beside    my    window  —  just    a    symbol    sent 

from    Heaven  — 
But    with    Proteus    power    it    ever    changes    meaning  — 

changes   form  — 
And  it  speaks  with  tongues  of  angels,  and  it  prophesies 

the   rising  [in    man. 

Of   the    day-star    which    shall    shine    out    from    divinity 

LANNIE  HAYXES  MARTIN. 
92 


MARCH   19. 


MARCH  20. 


MARCH  21. 

IN  THE  REDWOOD  CANYONS. 
Down  in  the  redwood  canyons  cool  and  deep, 
The  shadows  of  the  forest  ever  sleep; 
The  odorous  redwoods,  wet  with  fog  and  dew, 
Touch  with  the  bay  and  mingle  with  the  yew. 
Under  the  firs  the  red  madrona  shines, 
The  graceful  tan-oaks,  fairest  of  them  all, 
Lean  lovingly  unto  the  sturdy  pines, 
In  whose  far  tops  the  birds  of  passage  call. 
Here,  where  the  forest  shadows  ever  sleep, 
The  mountain-lily  lifts  its  chalice  white ; 
The  myriad  ferns  hang  draperies  soft  and  white 
Thick  on  each  mossy  bank  and  watered  steep, 
Where  slender  deer  tread  softly  in  the  night — 
Down  in  the  redwood  canyons  dark  and  deep. 
LILLIAN  H.  SHUEY,  in  Among  the  Redwoods. 

MARCH  22. 

You  rode  three  miles  on  the  flat,  two  in  the  leafy 
and  gradually  ascending  creek-bed  of  a  canyon,  a  half 
hour  of  laboring  steepness  in  the  overarching  moun 
tain  lilac  and  laurel.  There  you  came  to  a  great  rock 
gateway  which  seemed  the  top  of  the  world.  *  *  *  Be 
yond  the  gateway  a  lush  level  canyon  into  which  you 
plunged  as  into  a  bath ;  then  again  the  laboring  trail,  up 
and  always  up  toward  the  blue  California  sky,  out  of  the 
lilacs,  and  laurels,  and  redwood  chaparral  into  the 
manzanita,  the  Spanish  bayonet,  the  creamy  yucca,  and 
the  fine  angular  shale  of  the  upper  regions.  Beyond 
the  apparent  summit  you  found  always  other  summits 
yet  to  be  climbed,  and  all  at  once,  like  thrusting  your 
shoulders  out  of  a  hatchway,  you  looked  over  the  top. 
STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,  in  The.  Mountains. 
94 


MARCH  21. 


MARCH  22. 


MARCH  23. 
DONNER  LAKE. 

So   fair   thou   art — so   still   and    deep — 
Half   hidden    in    thy    granite    cup. 
From    depths   of   crystal    smiling   up 
As    smiles    a    woman    in    her    sleep! 

The    pine    trees    whisper    where    they    lean 
Above   thy   tide:    and.    mirrored   there 
The   purple   peaks   their   bosoms   bare-. 
Reflected    in    thy    silver   sheen. 

So    fair    thou    art  !      And    yet     there    dwells 

Within    thy    sylvan    solitudes 

A    memory   which    darkling  broods 

And   all   thy   witchery   dispels. 

DANIEL  S.  RICHARDSON,  in   Trail  Dust. 


MARCH  24. 
DONNER    LAKH. 

Donner  Lake  a  pleasure  resort !  Can  you  under 
stand  for  one  moment  how  strange  this  seems  to  me? 
1  must  be  as  old  as  Haggard's  "She,"  since  I  have 
lived  to  see  our  papers  make  such  a  statement.  It  is 
years  since  I  was  there,  yet  T  can  feel  the  cold  and 
hunger  and  hear  the  moan  of  the  pines;  those  grand 
old  trees  that  used  to  tell  me  when  a  storm  was  brew 
ing  and  seemed  to  be  about  the  only  thing  there  alive, 
as  the  snow  could  not  speak.  But  now  that  the  place 
is  a  pleasure  resort — the  moan  of  the  pines  should 
cease. 

VIRGINIA    REED   MURPHY. 


MARCH  23. 


MARCH  24. 


MARCH  25. 

THE  LURE  OF  THE  DESERT  LAND. 
Have  you  slept  in  a  tent  alone— a  tent 

Out  under  the  desert  sky — 
Where  _a  thousand  thousand   desert  miles 

All  silent  'round  you  lie? 
The  dust  of  the  aeons  of  ages  dead, 
And  the  peoples  that  tramped  by! 
*     *     #     #     * 

Have  you  lain  with  your  face  in  your  hands,  afraid, 

Face  down — flat  down  on  your  face — and  prayed, 
While  the  terrible  sandstorm  whirled  and  swirled 

In  its  soundless  fury,  and  hid  the  world 
And  quenched  the  sun  in  its  yellow  glare — 

Just  you  and  your  soul,  and  nothing  there? 
If  you  have,  then  you  know,  for  you've  felt  its  spell, 

The  lure  of  the  desert  land. 
And  if  you  have  not,  then  you  could  not  tell — 

For  you   could   not  understand. 

MADGE  MORRIS  WAGNER,  in  Lip pine ott's. 

MARCH  26. 

One  of  the  most  beautiful  lakes  in  the  world  is  Lake 
Tahoe.  It  is  six  thousand  feet  above  sea-level,  and 
the  mountains  around  it  rise  four  thousand  feet  higher. 
*  *  The  first  thing  one  would  notice,  perhaps,  is  the 
wonderful  clearness  of  the  lake  water.  As  one  stands 
on  the  wharf  the  steamer  Tahoe  seems  to  be  hanging 
in  the  clear  green  depths  with  her  keel  and  propellers 
in  plain  sight.  The  fish  dart  under  her  and  all  about 
as  in  some  large  aquarium.  *  *  Every  stick  or  stone 
shows  on  the  bottom  as  one  sails  along  where  the 
water  is  sixty  or  seventy  feet  deep. 

EEEA  M.  SEXTON,  in  Stories  of  California. 


MARCH  25. 


MARCH  26. 


99 


MARCH  27. 

A  PLAINSMAN'S  SONG — MY  Lc\t. 
Oh,  give  me  a  cluuh  in  1113-  hand  of  as  much 

Of  the  mane  of  a  horse  as  a  hold, 
And  let  his  desire  to  be  gone  be  a  lire 

And  let  him  be  snorting  and  bold  ! 
And  then  with  a  swing  on  his  back  let  me  fling 

My  leg  that  is  naked  as  steel 
And  let  us  away  to  the  end  of  the  day 

To  quiet  the  tempest  I   feel. 
And  keen  as  the  wind  with  the  cities  behind 

And  prairie  before — like  a  sea, 
With  billows  of  grass  that  lasn  as  we  pass, 

Make  way  for  my  stallion  and  me  ! 
And  up  with  his  nose  till  his  nostril  aglows, 

And  out  with  his  tail  and  his  mane, 
And  up  with  my  breast  till  the  breath  of  the  West 

Is  smiting  me — knight  of  the  plain  ! 
Oh,  give  me  a  gleam  of  your  eyes,  love  adream 

With  the  kiss  of  the  sun  and  the  dew, 
And   mountain    nor   swale,   nor  the   scorch   nor   the   hail 

Shall  halt  me  from  spurring  to  you ! 
For  wild  as  a  flood-melted  snow  for  its  blood — 

By  crag,  gorge,  or  torrent,  or  shoal, 
I'll  ride  on  my  steed  and  lay  tho'  it  bleed, 

My  heart  at  your  feet — and  my  soul ! 

PHILIP  VERRIIX  MIGUELS,  in  Harper's,   ll'ccldy. 

MARCH  28. 

Lyo,  a   Power  divine,  in  all  nature  is  found, 
A.   Power  omniscient,  unfailing,  profound ; 
A  great  Heart,  that  loves  beauty  and  order  and  light. 
In   the  flowers,  in  the  shells,  in  the  stars  of  the  night. 
JOSIAH  KEEP,  in  Shells  and  Sea-Life. 

ion 


MARCH  27. 


MARCH  28. 


101 


MARCH  29. 

BACK  TO  THE  DESERT. 
Call  it  the  land  of  thirst, 
Call  it  the  land  accurst, 
Or  what  you  will ; 
There  where  the  heat-lines  twirl 
And  the  dust-devils  whirl 

His    heart    turns    still. 
#     #     #     * 

Back  to  the  land  he  knows, 
Back  where  the  yucca  grows 

And  cactus  bole ; 
Where  the  coyote  cries, 
Where  the  black  buzzard  flies 

Flyeth   his    soul ! 
BAILEY  MILLAR^  in  Songs  of  the  Press. 

MARCH  30. 

DRIVING  THE  LAST  SPIKE,  1869. 

Under  the  desert  sky  the  spreading  multitude  was 
called  to  order.  There  followed  a  solemn  prayer  of 
thanksgiving.  The  laurel  tie  was  placed,  amidst  ring 
ing  cheers.  The  golden  spike  was  set.  The  trans- 
American  telegraph  wire  was  adjusted.  Amid  breath 
less  silence  the  silver  hammer  was  lifted,  poised,  drop 
ped,  giving  the  gentle  tap  that  ticked  the  news  to  all 
the  world !  Then,  blow  on  blow,  Governor  Stanford 
sent  the  spike  to  place !  A  storm  of  wild  huzzas 
burst  forth;  desert  rock  and  sand,  plain  and  moun 
tain,  echoed  the  conquest  of  their  terrors.  The  two 
engines  moved  up,  touched  noses ;  and  each  in  turn 
crossed  the  magic  tie.  America  was  belted!  The  great 
Iron  Way  was  finished. 

SARAH  PRATT  CARR,  in  The  Iron  Way. 

102 


MARCH  29. 


MARCH  30. 


103 


MARCH  31. 

THK  SIM  KIT  ()!•  TIIK  \YKST. 
All   wearied   with   the  burdens  of  a   place 
Grown   barren,  over-crowded  and   despoiled 
Of  vital    freshness  by   the  weight  of  years. 
A   sage  Ascended  to  the   mountain   tops 
To  peer,  as  Moses  once  had  done  of  old, 
Into  the   distance  for  a   Promised   Land  ; 
And  there,  his  gaze  toward  the  setting  sun. 
Heheld  the  Spirit  of  the  Occident, 
Hold,   herculean,  in   its  latent   strength — 
A  youthful  destiny  that  beckoned  on 
To  fields  all  vigorous  with  natal  life. 
The  years  have  passed;  the  sage  has  led  a  band 
Of  virile,  sturdy  men  into  the  West. 
And  these  have  toiled  and  multiplied   and   stamped 
I'pon   the   faee   of   Nature  wondrous   things. 
I'ntil.   created    from    the   virgin    soil, 
( ^reat  industries  arise  as  monuments 
To  their  endeavor;  and  a  mighty  host 
Now  labors  in  a  once-untrodden  waste — 
Quick-pulsed   with  life-blood,   from  a   heart    that    throb? 
Its  vibrant  dominance  throughout  the  world. 
Today,  heroic  in  the  sunset's  glow. 
A  figure  looms,  colossal  and  serene. 
In   royal   power  of  accomplishment. 
That  claims  the  gaze  of  nations  over-sea 
And  beckons,  still,  as  in  the  years  agone, 
The  weary  ones  of  earth   to  its  domain — 
That   they  may   drink   from  undiluted   founts 
An  inspiration  of  new  energy. 

Lor  is  J.  STEM.. MAX, 
in  Sunset  Magazine,  August,   1903 


104 


MARCH  31. 


DKSKRT  LI-RE. 

The    hills   are   gleaming   brass,   and   bronze   tin-   peaks. 
The   mesas  are  a   bra/on,   molten   sea, 
And  e'en  the  heaven's  bine  infinity, 
Undimmed  by  kindly  cloud  through  arid  weeks, 
Seems   polished   turquoise.      Like   a    sphinx    she  speaks, 
The  scornful  desert:  "What  would'st  thou  from  me?" 
And  in  our  hearts  we  answer  her;  all  three 
Unlike,  for  each  a  different  treasure  seeks. 
One  sought  Adventure,  and  the  desert  gave ; 

His   restless   heart   found   rest   beneath   her   sands. 
One  sought  but  gold.     He  dug  his  soul  a  grave; 

The  desert's  gift  worked  evil  in  his  hands. 
One  sought  for  beauty;  him  She  made  her  slave. 
Turn  back  !     Xo  man  her  'witched  gift  withstands. 
CHARLTON  LAWRENCE  EDHOLM, 

in  Ainslccs.  July,   1907. 
106 


1. 

Hark !  What  is  the  meaning  of  this  stir  in  the  air. 
why  are  the  brooks  so  full  of  laughter,  the  birds  pour 
ing  forth  such  torrents  of  sweet  song,  as  if  unable 
longer  to  contain  themselves  for  very  joy?  The  hills 
and  ravines  resound  with  happy  voices.  Let  us  re 
echo  the  cheering  vibrations  with  the  gladness  of  our 
hearts,  with  the  hope  arisen  from  the  tomb  of  despair. 
With  buoyant  spirit,  let  us  join  in  the  merry  mood  of 
the  winged  songsters ;  let  us  share  the  gaiety  of  the 
flowers  and  trees,  and  let  our  playful  humor  blend 
with  the  musical  flow  and  tinkle  of  the  silvery,  shim 
mering  rivulet.  Greetings,  let  fond  greetings  burst 
from  the  smiling  lips  on  this  most  happy  of  all  occa 
sions  !  The  natal  day  of  the  flowers,  the  tender  season 
of  love  and  beauty,  the  happy  morn  of  mother  Na 
ture's  bright  awakening !  The  resurrection,  indeed ! 
The  world  palpitating  with  fresh  young  life — it  is  the 
Holiday  of  holidays,  the  Golden  Holiday  for  each  and 
all — the  Birth  of  Spring. 

BERTHA  HIRSCH  BARUCH. 

Copyright,  1907. 

APRII,  2. 

Almost  has  the  Californian  developed  a  racial  physi 
ology.  He  tends  to  size,  to  smooth  symmetry  of  limb 
and  trunk,  to  an  erect,  free  carriage;  and  the  beauty  of 
his  women  is  not  a  myth.  The  pioneers  were  all  men 
of  good  body ;  they  had  to  be  to  live  and  leave  des 
cendants.  The  bones  of  the  weaklings  who  started  for 
El  Dorado  in  1849  lie  on  the  plains  or  in  the  hill  cem 
eteries  of  the  mining  camps.  Heredity  began  it;  cli 
mate  has  carried  it  out. 

IRWIN,  in  The  City  That   Was. 

106 


APRIL  1. 


APRIL  2. 


107 


APRIL  3. 

AN   EASTER  OITEKING. 

I    watched  a  lily  through  the  Lenten-tide; 
From  when  its  emerald  sheath  first  pierced  the  mould. 
I  saw  the  satin  blades  uncurl,  unfold, 
And,  softly  upward,  stretch  with  conscious  pride 
Toward  the  fair  sky.     At  length,  the  leaves  beside, 
There  came  a  flower  beauteous  to  behold, 
Breathing  of  purest  joy  and  peace  untold; 
Its  radiance  graced  the  Easter  altar-side. 
And  in  my  heart  there  rose  a  sense  of  shame 
That   I,  alas,  no  precious  gift  had  brought 

Which  could  approach  the  beauty  of  this  thing — 
1   who  had  sought  to  bear  the  Master's  name! 

Humbly  T  bowed  while  meek  repentance  wrought. 
Witli   silent  tears,  her  chastened  offering. 

BLANCHE  M.  BURBANK. 


APRIL  4. 

Kor  all  the  toll  the  desert  takes  of  a  man  it  gives 
compensations,  deep  breaths,  deep  sleep,  and  the  com 
munion  of  the  stars.  It  comes  upon  one  with  new 
force  that  the  Chaldeans  were  a  desert-bred  people. 
It  is  hard  to  escape  the  sense  of  mastery  as  the  stars 
move  in  the  wide,  clear  heavens  to  risings  and  settings 
unobscured.  They  look  large  and  near  and  palpitant; 
as  if  they  moved  on  some  stately  service  not  needful 
to  declare.  Wheeling  to  their  stations  in  the  sky,  they 
make  the  poor  world-fret  of  no  account.  Of  no  ac 
count  you  who  lie  out  there  watching,  nor  the  lean 
coyote  that  stands  off  in  the  scrub  from  you  and  howls 
and  howls. 

MARY  Ars'fix.   in    The  Land   of  Little   Ruin. 
108 


APRIL  t. 


APRIL  4. 


10U 


APRIL  5. 

DESERT  CALLS. 

There  are  breaks  in  the  voice  of  the  shouting  street 

Where  the  smoke  drift  comes  sifting  down, 
And  I  list  to  the  wind  calls,  far  and  sweet — 
They  are  not  from  the  winds  of  the  town. 

0  I  lean  to  the  rush  of  the  desert  air 
And  the  bite  of  the  desert  sand, 

1  feel  the  hunger,  the  thirst  and  despair — 
And  the  joy  of  the  still  border  land! 

For  the  ways  of  the  city  are  blocked  to  the  end 

With  the  grim  procession  of  death — 
The  treacherous  love  and  the  shifting  friend 

And  the  reek  of  a  multitude's  breath. 
But  the  arms  of  the  Desert  are  lean  and  slim 

And  his  gaunt  breast  is  cactus-haired, 
His  ways  are  as  rude  as  the  mountain   rim — 

But  the  heart  of  the  Desert  is  bared. 

HARLEY  R.  WILEY,  in  Out  West  Magazine. 

APRIL  6. 

In  the  universal  pean  of  gladness  which  the  earth  at 
Eastertide  raises  to  the  Lord  of  Life,  the  wilderness  and 
the  solitary  place  have  part,  and  the  desert  then  does 
in  truth  blossom  as  the  rose.  And  how  comforting  are 
the  blossoms  of  the  desert  when  at  last  they  have  come ! 
When  the  sun  has  sunk  behind  the  rim  of  the  verdure- 
less  range  of  granite  hills  that  westward  bound  my 
view,  and  the  palpitating  light  of  the  night's  first  stars 
shines  out  in  the  tender  afterglow,  I  love  to  linger  on 
the  cooling  sands  and  touch  my  cheek  to  the  flowers. 
Now  has  the  desert  shaken  off  the  livery  of  death,  and 
...  is  become  an  abiding  place  of  hope. 
CHARLES  FRANCIS  SAUNDERS,  in  Blossoms  of  the  Desert. 
110 


APRIL  5. 


APRIL  6. 


ill 


APRIL  7. 

There  had  been  no  hand  to  lay  a  wreath  upon  lii< 
tomb.  But  soon,  as  if  the  weeping-  skies  had  scattered 
seeds  of  pity,  tiny  flowerets,  yellow,  blue,  red,  and 
white,  were  sprouting  on  the  sides  of  the  grave  '*  *  * 
A  delicious  perfume  filled  the  air.  The  desert' ceme 
tery  was  now  a  place  of  beauty  as  well  as  a  place  of 
peace.  But  the  silence  and  solitude  remained'  unbroken 
except  when  a  long-tailed  lizard  scurried  through  the 
undergrowth,  or  a  big  horned  toad,  white  and  "black- 
like  patterned  enamel,  took  a  blinking  peep  of  melan 
choly  surprise  into  the  yawning  ditch  that  blocked  his 
accustomed  way. 

Kn.Mi-xn  MITCHELL,  in  ///  Desert  Keeping. 

APKIL  8. 

To  those  who  know  the  desert's  heart,  and  through 
years  of  closest  intimacy— have  learned  to  love  it  in 
all  its  moods;  it  has  for  them  something  that  is  greater 
than  charm,  more  lasting  than  beauty— a  something  to 
which  no  man  can  give  a  name.  Speech  is  not  needed 
tor  they  who  are  elect  to  love  these  things  understand 
one  another  without  words;  and  the  desert  speaks  t<> 
them  through  its  silence. 

TDAH  MEACHAM   STROBRIDGE,  in  Miner's  Mirage  Land 

At  length  I  struck  upon  a  spot  where  a  little  stream 
of  water  was  oozing  out  from  the  bank  of  sand.  As 
I  scraped  away  the  surface  I  saw  something  which 
would  have  made  me  dance  for  joy  had  I  not  been 
weighed  down  by  the  long  boots.  For  there,  in  very 
truth,  was  a  live  Olive,  with  its  graceful  shell  and  a 
beautiful  pearl-colored  body. 

JOSIAH  KEEP,  in    ll'csl  Coast  Shells. 


APRIL  7. 


APRIL  9. 
DESERT  DUST. 

With  all  its  heat  and  dust  the  desert  has  its  charms. 
The  desert  dust  is  dusty  dust,  hut  not  dirty  dust.  Com 
pared  with  the  awful  organic  dust  of  New  York,  Lon 
don  or  Paris,  it  is  inorganic  and  pure.  On  those  strips 
of  the  Libyan  and  Arabian  deserts  which  lie  along  the 
Nile  the  desert  dust  is  largely  made  up  of  the  resi 
duum  of  royalty,  of  withered  Ptolemies,  of  arid  Phar 
aohs  for  the  tombs  of  queens  and  kings  are  counted 
here' by  the  hundreds,  and  of  their  royal  progeny  and 
their  royal  retainers  by  the  thousands.  These  dessi- 
cated  dynasties  have  been  drying  so  long  that  they  are 
now  quite  antiseptic. 

The  dust  of  these  dead  and  gone  kings  makes  extra 
ordinarily  fertile  soil  for  vegetable  gardens  when  irri 
gated  with  the  rich,  thick  water  of  the  Nile.  Their 
mummies  also  make  excellent  pigments  for  the  brush 
Ramescs  and  Setos,  Cleopatra  and  Hatasu— a  11  these 
great  ones,  dead  and  turned  to  clay  are  said  when 
properly  ground,  to  make  a  rich  umber  paint  highly 
popular  with  artists. 

JEROME  HART,  in  A  Levantine  Log-Book. 

APRIL  10. 

The  mountain  wall  of  the  Sierra  bounds  California 
on  its  eastern  side.  It  is  rampart  towering  and  im 
pregnable,  between  the  garden  and  the  desert.  From  its 
cVest  brooded  over  by  cloud,  glittering  with  crusted 
snows  the  traveler  can  look  over  crag,  and  precipice, 
mounting  files  of  pines  and  ravines  swimming ^un 
fathomable  shadow,  to  where,  vast,  .pale  faring  in 
its  dreamy  adolescence,  lies  California,  the  garden. 
GERALDINE  BONNER,  in  The  Pioneer. 


1U 


APRIL  9. 


APRIL  10. 


115 


APRIL  11. 

MIRAGE  IN  THE  MOHAYE   DESERT. 
They   hoar  the   rippling  waters  call ; 

They  see  the  fields  of  balm ; 
And   faint   and   clear  above   it  all,    ' 
The   shimmer  of  some   silver   palm 
That  shines  thro'  all  that  stirless  calm 
So   near,   so  near — and   yet   they   fall 

All  scorched  with  heat  and  blind  with  pain, 
Their  faces  downward  to  the  plain, 
Their   arms    reached    toward    the   mountain    wall. 

ROSALIE  KERCH  EVA L. 

APRIL  12. 

The  desert  calls  to  him  who  has  once  felt  its  strange 
attraction,  calls  and  compels  him  to  return,  as  the  sea 
compels  the  sailor  to  forsake  the  land.  lie  who  has 
once  felt  its  power  can  never  free  himself  from  the 
haunting  charm  of  the  desert. 

GEORGE   HAMILTON  FITCH, 
in   Pal  in  Springs,  Land  of  Sunshine  Magazine. 

IN    SANCTUARY. 

Tin-   wind  broke  open  a   rose's  heart 
And    scattered   her  petals   far   apart. 
Driven    before   the   churlish  blast 
Some  in  the  meadow  brook  were  cast, 
Or  fell  in  the  tangle  of  the  sedge : 
Some  were  impaled  on  the  thorn  of  the  hedge ; 
But   one   was   caught   on    my   dear   love's   breast 
Where  long  ago  my   hear)    found   rest. 

CHARLES  FRANCIS  SAVNDERS, 

in  Overland  Monthly,  July.  1907. 

116 


\PKI1.     1  I, 


A  run.  12. 


117 


APRIL  13. 

For  fifteen  months  the  desert  of  California  had  lain 
dthirst.  The  cattle  of  the  vast  ranges  had  fled  from 
the  parched  sands,  the  dying,  shriveled  shrubs,  appeal 
ing  vainly,  mutely,  for  rain,  and  had  taken  refuge  in  the 
mountains.  They  instinctively  retreated  from  the  death 
of  the  desert  and  sheltered  themselves  in  the  green  of 
the  foot-hills.  North,  east,  south,  and  west,  rain  had 
fallen,  but  here,  for  miles  on  either  side  of  the  little 
isolated  station  *  *  *  the  plain  had  so  baked  in  the 
semi-tropical  sun  until  even  the  hardiest  sage-brush 
took  on  the  color  of  the  sand  which  billowed  toward 
the  eastern  horizon  like  an  untraveled  ocean. 

MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER,  in  The  Giants. 


APRIL  14. 

The  strong  westerly  winds  drawing  in  through  the 
Golden  Gate  sweep  with  unobstructed  force  over  the 
channel,  and,  meeting  the  outflowing  and  swiftly  mov 
ing  water,  kick  up  a  sea  that  none  but  good  boats  can 
overcome.  To  go  from  San  Francisco  to  the  usual 
cruising  grounds  the  channel  must  be  crossed.  There 
is  no  way  out  of  it.  And  it  is  to  this  circumstance, 
most  probably,  we  are  indebted  for  as  expert  a  body 
of  yachtsmen  as  there  is  anywhere  in  the  United  States. 
Timid,  nervous,  unskilled  men  cannot  handle  yachts 
under  such  conditions  of  wind  and  waves.  The  yachts 
men  must  have  confidence  in  themselves,  and  must  have 
boats  under  them  which  are  seaworthy  and  staunch 
enough  to  keep  on  their  course,  regardless  of  adverse 
circumstances. 

CHARLES  G.  YALE, 
in  Yachting  in  San  Francisco  Bay,  in  The  Californian. 

118 


APRIL  13. 


APRII,  14. 


119 


APR  1 1,  15. 
'I' i IK    Ij/Aki). 

I    sit    among    the    hoary    trees 

With    Aristotle   on    my   knees 
And    turn     with    serious    hand    the     pages, 
Lost  in   the  cobweb-hush  of  ages; 
When   suddenly  with  no  more   sound 
Than   any   sunbeam   on   the   ground, 

The  little  hermit  of  the  place 

Is    peering    up    into    my    face — 
The   slim   gray   hermit   of   the   rocks, 
With    bright,    inquisitive,    quick    eyes, 
His  life  a  round  of  harks  and  shocks, 

A   little   ripple   of   surprise, 

Now   lifted   up,    intense   and    still, 
Sprung    from    the    silence    of   the    hill 
He    hangs   upon    the   ledge   a-glisten. 
And    his    whole   bodv    seems    to   listen ! 

My  pages  give  a   little-   start, 
And   he   is   gone!      to   be   a    part 
Of   the    old    cedar's   crumpled    bark, 
A    mottled    scar,    a    weather    mark ! 
KDW.IN  MARK  M  AM,  in   Lincoln  and  Other  1'ocms. 

APRIL  16. 

I    lived    in    a    region    of    remote    sounds.      On    Russian 
Mill    I    looked   down   as   from   a   balloon;   all   there   is   of 
the  stir  of  the  city  comes  in   distant  bells  and   whistles, 
changing   their    sound,    just    as    scenery    moves,    accord 
ing  to  the   state   of   the   atmosphere.      The   islands    shift 
as  if  enchanted,  now  near  and  plain,  then  removed  and 
dim.      The   bav   widening,    sapphire   blue,    or   narrowing, 
green   and  gray,  or.  before  a   storm,  like  quicksilver. 
EMMA  FRANCES  DAWSON,  in  .-In   Itinerant  House. 
120 


APRIL  15. 


APRIL  16. 


121 


APRIL  17. 

Although  we  dread  earthquakes  with  all  their  re 
sultant  destruction,  yet  it  is  well  to  recognize  the  fact 
that  if  it  were  not  for  them  we  would  find  here  in 
California  little  of  that  wonderful  scenery  of  which  we 
are  so  proud.  Our  earthquakes  are  due  to  movements 
similar  to  those  which,  through  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  years,  have  been  raising  the  lofty  mountains  of  the 
Cordilleran  region.  The  Sierra  Nevada  range,  with 
its  abrupt  eastern  scarp  nearly  two  miles  high,  faces 
an  important  line  of  fracture  along  which  movements 
have  continued  to  take  place  up  to  the  present  time 

HAROLD  W.  FAIRBANKS, 
in  The  Great  Earthquake  Rift  of  California. 

APRIL  18. 

APRIL  EIGHTEENTH. 
Three  years  have  passed,  oh,  City!  since  you  lay — 

A  smoking  shambles — stricken  by  the  lust 
Of  Nature's  evil  passions.     In  a  day 

I  saw  your  splendor  crumble  into  dust. 
So  vast  your  desolation,  so  complete 

Your  tragedy  of  ruin  that  there  seemed 
Small  hope  of  rallying  from  such  defeat — 

Of  seeing  you  arisen  and  redeemed. 
Yet,  three  short  years  have  marked  a  sure  rebirth 

To  splendid  urban  might;  a  higher  place 
Among  the  ruling  cities  of  the  earth 

And  left  of  your  disaster  but  a  trace. 
Refined  in  flame  and  tempered,  as  a  blade 

Of  iron  into  steel  of  flawless  ring — 
Oh,  City  of  the  Spirit  Unafraid ! 

What  wondrous  destiny  the  years  will  bring! 

Louis  J.  STELLMAN, 
in  San  Francisco  Globe,  April  18,  1909. 

122 


APRIL  17. 


APRIL  18. 


123 


APRIL  19. 
O,  EVANESCENCE  ! 
(SAN  KUAN  Cisco. ) 

I  loved  a  work  of  dreams  that  bloomed  from  Art; 
A    town    and    her    turrets    rose 
As   from  the   red  heart 
Of  the   couchant   suns   where   the   west   wind   blows 

And-  worlds  lie  apart. 
Calm  slept  the  sea-flats;  beneath  the  blue  dome 

Copper  and  gold  and  alabaster  gleamed, 
And   sea-birds   came   home. 
But  I  woke  in  a  sorrowful   day  ; 
The  vision  was  scattered  away. 

Ashes  and  dust  lie  deep  on  the  dream  that   I  dreamed. 
HERMAN  SCHEFFAUER,  in  Looms  of  Life. 

APRIL  20. 
SAN    FRANCISCO. 

What  matters   that    her   multitudinous    store- — 
The  garnered   fruit   of  measureless   desire — 
Sank  in  the  maelstrom  of  abysmal   lire. 
To  be  of  man  beheld  on  earth  no  more? 
Her  loyal  children,  cheery  to  the  core. 
Quailed  not,  nor  blenched,  while  she,  above  the  ire 
Of  elemental  ragings,  dared  aspire 
On  victory's  wings  resplendently  to  soar. 
What   matters   all  the   losses   of  the   years, 
Since  she  can  count   the  subjects  as  her  own 
That  share  her  fortunes  under  every  fate; 
Who  weave  their  brightest  tissues  from  her  tears, 
And  who,  although   her  best   be   overthrown, 
Resolve  to  make  her  and  to  keep  her  great. 

EDWARD  ROBESON  TAYLOR,  in  Sunset  Magazine. 


APRIL  19 


APRIL  20. 


125 


APRIL  21. 

They  could  hear  the  roar  and  crackle  of  the  fire 
and  the  crashing  of  walls;  but  even  more  formidable 
was  that  tramping  of  thousands  of  feet,  the  scraping 
of  trunks  and  furniture  on  the  tracks  and  stones.  *  *  * 
It  was  a  well  and  a  carefully  dressed  crowd,  for  by 
this  time  nearly  everyone  had  recovered  from  the  shock 
of  the  earthquake;  many  forgotten  it,  no  doubt,  in  the 
new  horror.  *  *  *  They  pushed  trunks  to  which  skates 
had  been  attached,  or  pulled  them  by  ropes;  they  trun 
dled  sewing  machines  and  pieces  of  small  furniture, 
laden  with  bundles.  Many  carried  pillow-cases,  into 
which  they  had  stuffed  a  favorite  dress  and  hat,  an 
extra  pair  of  boots  and  a  change  of  underclothing, 
some  valuable  bibelot  or  bundle  of  documents;  to  say 
nothing  of  their  jewels  and  what  food  they  could  lay 
hands  on.  Several  women  wore  their  furs,  as  an  easier 
way  of  saving  them,  and  children  carried  their  dolls. 
Their  state  of  mind  was  elemental.  *  *  *  The  refine 
ments  of  sentiment  and  all  complexity  were  forgotten; 
they  indulged  in  nothing  so  futile  as  complaint,  nor 
even  conversation.  And  the  sense  of  the  common  ca 
lamity  sustained  them,  no  doubt,  de-individualized 
them  for  the  hour. 

GERTRUDE  ATHERTON,  in  Ancestors. 

APRIL  22. 

The  sun  is  dying;  space  and  room, 
Serenity,  vast  sense  of  rest, 
Lie   bosomed   in    the    orange   west 
Of  Orient  waters.     Hear  the  boom 
Of  long,   strong  billows;   wave  on   wave, 
Like  funeral  guns  above  a  grave. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER,  in  Collected  Poems. 

12fi 


APRIL  21. 


APRIL  22. 


127 


APRIL  23. 

SAN    FRANCISCO. 

IN     CHRISTMAS     TWIT.ir.HT,     1898. 

In   somber  silhouette,  against  a  golden   sky. 
Francisco's  city  sits  as  sunbeams  die. 
The  serrated  hills  her  throne;  the  ocean  laves  her  feet; 
Her  jeweled  crown   the  Western   zephyrs  greet; 
Their  breath   is   fragrance,  sweet  as  wreath   of  bride, 
In   winter  season   as  at  summer  tide. 

AI-'TER    APRIL    18,     1906. 

Clothed  with  sack-cloth,  strewn  with  ashes, 
Seated  on  a  desolate  throne 
'Mid  the   spectral  walls   of   stately   domes 
And   the   skeletons   of   regal    homes, 

Francisco  weeps  while  westward  thrashes 

Through   the  wrecks  of  mansions,  stricken   prone 
By  the  rock  of  earth   and  sweep  of  flame 
Which,  unheralded  and  unbidden,  came 

In  the  greatness  of  her  pride   full-blown 

And  at  the  zenith  of  her  matchless  fame. 

TAI.IESIN  KVANS. 


APRIL  24. 

And  let  it  be  remembered  that  whatever  San  Fran 
Cisco,  her  citizens  and  her  lovers,  do  now  or  neglect  to 
do  in  this  present  regeneration  will  be  felt  for  good  or 
ill  to  remotest  ages.  Let  us  build  and  rebuild  accord 
ingly,  bearing  in  mind  that  the  new  San  Francisco  is 
to  stand  forever  before  the  world  as  the  measure  of  the 
civic  taste  and  intelligence  of  her  people. 

HUUEKT  HOWE  BANCROFT, 
in  Sonic  Cities  and  San  Froncisco. 

128 


APRIL  23. 


APRIL  24. 


129 


APRIL  25. 
SAN   FRANCISCO. 
Queen   regnant  she,  and  so  shall  be  for  aye 

As  long  as  her  still  unpolluted  sea 

Shall  wash  the  borders  of  her  brave  and  free, 

And  mother  her  incomparable   Bay. 
The   pharisees   and   falsehood-mongers  may 

Be  rashly  blatant  as  they  care  to  be, 

She   yet   with    dauntless,   old-time  liberty 

Will  hold  her  own   indomitable  way. 
A  Royal  One,  all  love  and  heart  can  bear. 

The  all   of  strength   that   human  arm   can   wield. 

Are  thine  devotedly,  and  ever  thine; 
And  thoti  wilt  use  them  till  thy  brow  shall  wear 

A  newer  crown  by  high  endeavor  sealed 

With   gems   emitting  brilliances   divine. 

EDWARD  ROBESON  TAYLOR,  in  Sunset  Magazine. 

APRIL  26. 

Until  a  man  paints  with  the  hope  or  with  the  wish 
to  stir  the  minds  of  his  fellows  to  better  thinking  and 
their  hearts  to  better  living,  or  to  make  some  creature- 
happier  or  wiser,  he  has  not  understood  the  meaning 
of  art. 

W.   L.  JUDSON,  in    The  Building  of  a    Picture. 

CALIFORNIA  ON  THE  PASSING  OF  TENVVSON. 
All  silent  .  .  .  So,  he  lies  in  state  .  .  . 

Our  redwoods  drip  and  drip  with  rain  .  .  . 
Against  our  rock-locked  Golden  Gate 

We  hear  the  great,  sad,  sobbing  main. 
But  silent  all  ...  He  passed  the  stars 

That  year  the   whole   world   turned  to  Mars. 

Jo. \ QUINT  MILU',K. 

130 


APKIL  25. 


APRIL  26. 


131 


APRIL  27  AND  28. 
In  ended  days,  a  child,  I  trod  thy  sands, 

The  sands  unbuilded,  rank  with  brush  and  brier 
And  blossom — chased   the   sea-foam   on   thy   strands. 

Young  city  of  my  love  and  my  desire! 
I  saw  thy  barren  hills  against  the  skies, 

I  saw  them  topped  with  minaret  and  spire, 
On  plain  and  slope  thy  myriad  walls  arise, 

Fair  city  of  my  love  and  my  desire. 
With  thee  the  Orient  touched  heart  and  hands  ; 

The  world's  rich  argosies  lay  at  thy  feet ; 
Queen  of  the  fairest  land  of  all  the  lands — 

Our  Sunset-Glory,  proud  and  strong  and  sweet ! 
I   saw  thee  in  thine  anguish !   tortured,  prone, 

Rent   with    earth-throes,    garmented   in   fire ! 
Each  wound  upon  thy  breast  upon  my  own, 

Sad  city  of  my  love  and  my  desire. 
Gray  wind-blown  ashes,  broken,  toppling  wall 

And  ruined  hearth — are  these  thy  funeral  pyre? 
Black  desolation   covering  as  a  pall — 

Is   this  the  end,  my  love  and  my  desire? 
Nay,  strong,  undaunted,  thoughtless  of  despair, 

The   Will  that  builded  thee   shall  build  again, 
And  all   thy  broken  promise   spring  more   fair, 

Thou  mighty  mother  of  as  mighty  men. 
Thou  wilt  arise  invincible,  supreme ! 

The  earth  to  voice  thy  glory  never  tire, 
And  song,  unborn,  shall  chant  no  nobler  theme, 

Proud  city  of  my  love  and  my  desire. 
But  I — shall  see  thee  ever  as  of  old ! 

Thy  wraith   of  pearl,   wall,   minaret  and   spire, 
Framed  in  the  mists  that  veil  thy  Gate  of  Gold, 

Lost  city  of  my  love  and  my  desire. 

INA  D.   COOLBRITH. 

132 


APRIL  27. 


APRIL  28. 


133 


APRIL  29. 
The   cataclysmal   force  to  which   we   owe 

Our  glorious  Gate  of  Gold,  through  which  the  sea 
Rushed  in  to  clasp  these  shores  long,  long  ago. 

Came  once  again  to  crown  our  destiny 
With  such  a  grandeur  that  in  sequent  years 
This  period  of  pain  which  now  appears 

Pregnant  with  doubt,  shall  vanish  as  when  day 

Drives  the  foreboding  dreams  of  night  away. 
Born  of  the  womb  of  Woe,  where  Sorrow  sighs, 

Fostered  by   Faith,   undaunted  by   Dismay, 
Earth's  fairest  City  shall  from  ashes  rise. 

LOUIS   ALEXANDER  ROBERTSON,  in 

Through    Painted    Panes. 
— ••• — 

APRIL  30. 

Old  San  Francisco,  which  is  the  San  Francisco  of 
only  the  other  day — the  day  before  the  earthquake — 
was  divided  midway  by  the  Slot.  The  Slot  was  an 
iron  crack  that  ran  along  the  center  of  Market  street,' 
and  from  the  Slot  arose  the  burr  of  the  ceaseless, 
endless  cable  that  was  hitched  at  will  to  the  cars  it 
dragged  up  and  down.  In  truth,  there  were  two  Slots, 
but,  in  the  quick  grammar  of  the  West,  time  was 
saved  by  caning  them,  and  much  more  that  they  stood 
for,  "The  Slot."  North  of  the  Slot  were  the  theaters, 
hotels  and  shipping  district,  the  banks  and  the  staid, 
respectable  business  houses.  South  of  the  Slot  were 
the  factories,  slums,  laundries,  machine  shops,  boiler 
works,  and  the  abodes  of  the  working  class. 

JACK  LONDON,  in  Saturday  Evening  Post. 

134 


APRIL  29. 


APRIL  30. 


136 


MAY  1. 

HAWAII,  WEDNESDAY,  MAY  1,  1907. 
A  year  ago,  Jack  and  I  set  out  on  a  horseback  trip 
through  the  northern  counties  of  California.  It  just 
now  came  to  me — not  the  date  itself,  but  the  feel  of 
the  sweet  country,  the  sweetness  of  mountain  lilacs, 
the  warm  summer-dusty  air.  *  *  *  And  here  in  Ha 
waii,  I  am  not  sure  but  I  am  at  home,  for  our  ground 
is  red,  too,  in  the  Valley  of  the  Moon,  where  home  is — 
dear  home  on  the  side  of  Sonoma  Mountain,  where 
the  colts  are,  and  where  the  Brown  Wolf  died. 

CHARMIAN  K.  LONDON,  in  Log  of  the  Snark. 

MAY  2. 

A  dull  eyed  rattlesnake  that  lay 
All  loathsome,  yellow-skinned,  and  slept, 
Coil'd  tight  as  pine-knot,  in  the  sun 
With  flat  head  through  the  center  run, 
Struck  blindly  back. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 


The  air  was  steeped  in  the  warm  fragrance  of  a 
California  spring.  Every  crease  and  wrinkle  of  the  en 
circling  hills  was  reflected  in  the  blue  stillness  of  the 
laguna.  Patches  of  poppies  blazed  like  bonfires  on  the 
mesa,  and  higher  up  the  faint  smoke  of  the  blossom 
ing  buckthorn  tangled  its  drifts  in  the  chaparral.  Bees 
droned  in  the  wild  buckwheat,  and  powdered  them 
selves  with  the  yellow  of  the  mustard,  and  now  and 
then  the  clear,  staccato  voice  of  the  meadow-lark  broke 
into  the  drowsy  quiet— a  swift  little  dagger  of  sound 
MARGARET  COLLIER  GRAHAM,  in  Stories  of  the  Foothills 


MAY  1. 


MAY  2. 


137 


MAY  3. 

THE  SEA  GARDENS  AT  CATAUNA. 
The  voyager  when  the  glass-bottom  boat  starts*  is 
first  regaled  with  the  sandy  beach,  in  three  or  four 
feet  of  water.  He  sees  the  wave  lines,  the  effect  of 
waves  on  soft  sand,  the  delicate  shading  of  the  bottom 
in  grays  innumerable;  now  the  collar-like  egg  of  a 
univalve  or  the  sharp  eye  of  a  sole  or  halibut  pro 
truding  from  the  sand.  A  school  of  smelt  dart  by, 
pursued  by  a  bass;  and  as  the  water  deepens  bands  of 
small  fish*  gleaming  like  silver,  appear;  then  a  black 
cormorant  dashing  after  them,  or  perchance  a^  sea-lion 
browsing  on  the  bottom  in  pursuit  of  prey.  Suddenly 
the  light  grows  dimmer;  quaint  shadows  appear  on 
the  bottom,  and  almost  without  warning  the  lookers 
on  are  in  the  depths  of  the  kelpian  forest. 

CHARLKS  FREDERICK  HOLDER,  in  Life  in  the  Open. 

MAY  4. 

TWE  HIDEOUS  OcToin  s. 

Krom  the  glass-bottom  boat  we  can  see  all  the  fauna 
of  the  ocean,  and,  without  question,  the  most  fascinat 
ing  of  them  all  is  the  octopus.  Timid,  constantly 
changing  color,  hideous  to  a  degree,  having  a  pecu 
liarly  devilish  expression,  it  is  well  named  the 
Mcphistophelcs  of  the  Sea,  and  with  the  bill  of  a  par 
rot,  the  power  to  adapt  its  color  to  almost  any  rock, 
and  to  throw  out  a  cloud  of  smoke  or  ink,  it  well 
deserves  the  terror  it  arouses.  The  average  specimen 
is  about  two  feet  across,  but  I  have  seen  individuals 
fourteen  feet  in  radial  spread,  and  larger  ones  have 
been  taken  in  deep  water  off  shore. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK   HOLDER, 

in  The  Glass  Bottom  Bon:. 

188 


MAY  4. 


139 


MAY  5. 

A  SIERRA  STORM  FROM  A  TREE  TOP. 
Being  accustomed  to  climb  trees  in  making  botanical 
studies,  I  experienced  no  difficulty  in  reaching  the  top 
of  this  one  (a  pine  about  100  feet  high),  and  never 
before  did  I  enjoy  so  noble  an  exhilaration  of  motion. 
The  slender  tops  fairly  flapped  and  swished  in  the 
passionate  torrent,  bending  and  swirling  backward  and 
forward,  round  and  round,  tracing  indescribable  com 
binations  of  vertical  and  horizontal  curves,  while  1 
clung  with  muscles  firm  braced,  like  a  bobolink  on  a 
reed. 

JOHN  MUIR.  in   The  Mountains  of  California. 

MAY  6. 

There  is  a  breeziness,  a  spaciousness,  an  undenled 
ecstasy  of  purity  about  the  High  Sierras.  Nature,  yet 
untainted  by  man,  has  expressed  herself  largely  in 
mighty  pine-clad,  snow-topped  blue  mountains,  and 
rolling  stretches  of  foot-hills;  in  rivers  whose  clarity 
is  as  perfect  as  the  first  snow-formed  drops  that  her 
aided  them;  and  a  sky  of  chaste  and  limpid  blue,  pale 
as  with  awe  of  the  celestial  wonders  it  has  gazed  upon. 
But  there  is  an  effect  of  simplicity  with  it  all,  an  omis 
sion  of  sensational  landscape  contrasts. 

MIRIAM   MICHELSON,  in  Anthony  Overman. 

The  ocean  is  a  great  home.  Its  waters  are  full  of 
life.  The  rocks  along  its  shores  are  thickly  set  with 
living  things ;  the  mud  and  sand  of  its  bays  are  pierced 
with  innumerable  burrows,  and  even  the  abyss  of  the 
deep  sea  has  its  curious  inhabitants. 

JOSIAH  KEEP,  in  West  Coast  Shells 

140 


MAY  5. 


MAY  6. 


141 


MAY  7. 
THE  COMING  OF  THE  RAILROAD. 

(IN    CALIFORNIA.") 

It  was  folded,  away  from  strife, 

In  the  beautiful  pastoral  hills; 
And  the  mountain  peaks  kept  watch  and  ward 

O'er  the  peace  that  the  valley  fills — 
Kept  watch  and  ward  lest  the  bold  world  pass 

The  fair  green  rampart  of  hills. 

;J<         #         ;|:         * 

The  rains  of  the  winter  fell 

In  benison  on  its  sod ; 
And  the  smiling  fields  of  the  spring  looked  up. 

A  thanksgiving  glad,  to  God ; 
And  the  little  children  laughed  to  sec 

The  wild-flowers   star  the   sod. 
*     *     *     * 

Hark!  hark!  to  the  thundrous  roar! 

Like  a  demon  of  fable  old, 
The  fiery  steed  of  the  rail  hath  swept 

Thro'   the   ancient   mountain-hold. 
And  the  green  hills  shudder  to  feel  his  breath — 

The  challenge  of  New  to  Old. 

FRANCES  MARGARET  MILNE,  in  For  Today. 

MAY  8. 
JOAQUIN  MILLER  TO  THE  MONEY  GETTER. 

Yes !     I  am  a  dreamer. 

***** 

While  you  seek  gold  in  the  earth,  why,  1 
See  gold  in  the  steeps  of  the  starry  ^sky ; 
And  which  do  you  think  has  the   fairer  view 
Of  God  in  heaven — the  dreamer  or  you? 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

142 


MAY  7. 


MAY  8. 


143 


MAY  9. 

THE  GLASS  BOTTOM  BOAT  AT  CATAUNA. 
When  you  land  in  the  beautiful  Bay  of  Avalon,  on 
Santa  Catalina  Island,  you  are  met,  not  by  hackmen. 
but  by  glass-bottom  boatmen:  "Here  you  are!  Ma 
rine  Jimmie's  boat,  only  fifty  cents."  "Take  the  Cleo 
patra"  or  "Right  away  now  for  the  Marine  Gardens." 
These  craft,  that  look  like  old-fashioned  river  side- 
wheelers  are  made  on  the  Island,  and  some  range  from 
row-boats  with  glass  bottoms  to  large  side-wheel 
steamers  valued  at  $30CO.  There  is  a  fleet  of  them, 
big  and  little,  and  they  skim  over  the  kelp  beds,  and 
have  introduced  an  altogether  new  variety  of  enter 
tainment  and  zoological  study  combined. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK  HOLDER, 

in  The  Glass  Bottom  Boat. 

MAY  10. 
THE  HANGING  SEA  GARDENS  AT  CATALINA. 

The  animals  of  the  hanging  gardens  are  not  con 
fined  to  the  kelp  or  the  rocks  of  the  bottom.  The  blue 
water  where  the  sunlight  enters  brings  put  myriads  of 
delicate  forms,  poising,  drifting,  swimming,  the  verita 
ble  gems  of  the  sea;  some  are  red  as  the  ruby;  others 
blue  like  sapphire ;  some  yellow,  white,  brown,  or  emit 
ting  vivid  flashes  of  seeming  phosphorescent  light. 
Ocean  sapphires  they  are  called;  the  true  gems  of  the 
sea,  thickly  strewn  in  the  deep  blue  water.  Sweeping 
by,  poised  in  classic  shapes,  are  the  smaller  jelly-fishes; 
crystal  vases,  so  delicate  that  the  rich  tone  of  the  ocean 
can  be  seen  through  them,  changing  to  a  steely  blue. 
Some  are  mere  spectres,  a  tracery  of  lace;  others  rich 
in  colors  and  flaunting  long  trains. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK  HOLDER,  in  Life  in  the  Open. 

144 


MAY  9. 


MAY  10. 


145 


MAY  11. 

BUILDING  THK  TKANSCONTI; \K.\TAI.  RAILWAY. 
Few  can  realize  the  problem  before  those  intrepid 
men,  who,  with  little  money  and  large  hostility  behind 
them,  hauled  their  strenuously  obtained  subsistence  and 
material  over  nearly  a  thousand  miles  of  poorly  equip 
ped  road.  They  fought  mountains  of  snow  "as  they 
had  never  before  been  fought.  They  forced  their  weak, 
wheezy  little  engines  up  tremendous  grades  with  green 
wood  that  must  sometimes  he  coaxed  with  sage-brush 
gathered  by  the  firemen  running  alongside  of  their 
creeping  or  stalled  iron  horses.  There  were  no  steel 
rails.  Engineers  worked  unhelped  by  the  example  of 
perfected  railroad  building  of  later  times.  Ko  tracks 
or  charts  of  the  man-killing  desert !  Xo  modern  helps, 
no  ready,  over-eager  capital  seeking  their  enterprise ! 
Only  skepticism,  hatred  from  their  enemies,  and  "You 
can't  do  it !"  flung  at  them  from  friend  and  foe. 

SARAH   PRATT  CARK,  in   The  Iron   /Fay. 

MAY  12. 

ANGLING  THE  SWOKDFJSH. 

As  he  brought  the  great  fish  around  again,  a  won 
derful  sight  with  its  gaudy  fins,  enormous  black  eyes 
and  menacing  sword,  the  head  boatman  hurled  the 
heavy  spear  into  it.  The  swordfish  fairly  doubled  up 
under  the  shock,  deluging  with  water  the  fishermen, 
its  sword  coming  out  and  striking  the  boat.  A  mo 
ment  more  and  it  might  have  escaped ;  but  one  of  the 
men  seized  it  by  the  sword,  while  another  threw  a  rope 
around  it,  and  the  big  game  was  theirs;  in  all  proba 
bility  the  first  large  swordfish  ever  taken  with  a  rod 
and  reel. 

CHARF.KS  FKKDKKICK    HOLDKK.  in  Mix  (/(////<•  at  Sea. 

146 


MAY  11. 


MAY  12. 


147 


MAY  13. 

The  old  Greeks  taught  their  children  how  to  sing, 
because  it  taught  them  how  to  be  obedient.  This  is 
a  difficult  universe  to  the  man  who  drives  dead  against 
it,  but  to  the  man  who  has  learned  the  secret  of  har 
mony  through  obedience  it  is  a  happy  place.  Dis 
cord  is  sickness ;  harmony  is  health.  Discord  is  rest 
lessness  ;  harmony  is  peace.  Discord  is  sorrow ;  har 
mony  is  joy.  Discord  is  death;  harmony  is  life.  Dis 
cord  is  hell ;  harmony  is  heaven.  He  who  is  in  love 
nnd  peace  with  his  neighbors,  filling  the  sphere  where 
God  has  placed  him,  hath  heaven  in  his  heart  already. 
Only  through  blue  in  the  eye,  the  scientist  tells  us,  can 
blue  out  of  the  eye  be  seen.  Only  through  C  in  the 
ear  can  C  out  of  the  ear  be  heard.  Only  through 
Heaven  down  here  can  Heaven  up  there  be  inter 
preted. 

MALCOLM   McLEOD,  iti   Earthly  Discords. 

MAY  14. 

As  one  approaches  the  mission  from  the  road,  it  de 
fines  itself  more  and  more  as  a  distinct  element  in  the 
view:  the  hills  ....  seem  to  distribute  themselves  on 
either  side,  as  though  realizing  that  here,  at  least,  they 
are  subordinate  and  must  not  intrude.  This  brings 
Santa  Lucia  into  view,  directly  behind  the  mission,  and 
thus  the  two  most  prominent,  most  interesting,  most 
beautiful  objects  in  the  landscape  are  brought  together 
in  one  perfect  whole:  Mt.  Santa  Lucia  —  Nature's 
grandest  creation  for  miles  around;  Mission  San  Anto 
nio — man's  noblest,  most  artistic  handiwork  between 
Santa  Barbara  and  Carmelo. 

CHARLES  FRANKLIN  CARTER, 
in  Some  By-Ways  of  California. 

148 


MAY  14. 


149 


MAY  15. 

There  is  what  may  be  called  a  sense  of  the  sea,  which 
is  indefinable.  No  lesser  body  of  water,  no  other  as 
pect  of  Nature  affords  this.  It  is  in  the  air,  like  a 
touch  of  autumn,  and  we  know  it  as  much  through 
feeling  as  through  seeing.  The  coast  is  saturated  for 
some  distance  inland  with  this  presence  of  the  sea, 
much  as  the  beach  is  soaked  with  salt  water.  It  is 
music  and  poetry  to  the  soul  and  as  elusive  as  they, 
wrapping  us  in  dreams  and  yielding  fugitive  glimpses 
of  that  which  we  may  never  grasp,  but  which  skirts, 
like  a  beautiful  phantom,  the  mind's  horizon.  Like 
music,  it  is  an  opiate,  and  unlocks  for  us  new  states 
of  mind  in  which  we  wander,  as  in  halls  of  alabaster 
and  mother-of-pearl,  but  where,  alas,  we  may  not  lin 
ger.  We  can  as  readily  sound  the  ocean  as  fathom 
the  feelings  it  inspires.  It  is  too  deep  for  thought. 
As  often  as  the  sea  speaks  to  us  of  the  birth  of  Venus 
and  of  Joy,  so  also  does  it  remind  of  Prometheus 
bound  and  the  thrall  of  Nature. 

STANTON    DAVIS  KIKKHAM.   in    /;/    the   Open. 

MAY  16. 

The   morning   breeze   with   breath   of   rose 
Steals  from  the  dawn  and  softly  blows 
Beneath  the  lintel,  where  is  hung 
My  little  bell  with  winged  tongue : 
Steals  from  the  dawn,  that  it  may  be 
An  oracle  of  peace  to  me ; 
For  hark !  athwart  my  fitful  dreams 
There  mingles  with  the  Orient  beams 
A  wakening  psalm  of  tinkling  bell : 
"God  brings  the  day,  and  all  is  well." 

CTJFP'ORD  HOWARD,  in  The  Wind  Bell. 

150 


MAY  15. 


MAY  16. 


151 


MAY  17. 

CATCHING  A  SWORDFISH. 

The  swordfish  was  not  disturbed  by  reflections  of 
any  kind.  Of  an  uncertain  and  vicious  temper  it  was 
annoyed,  then  maddened  by  being  held  by  something 
it  could  not  see,  and  dropping  into  the  water  it  dashed 
away  in  blind  fear  and  fury,  still  feeling  the  strange, 
uncanny  check  which  seemed  to  follow  it  as  a  sheet 
of  foam.  Cutting  the  water  one  hundred,  two  hundred 
feet,  it  shot  ahead  with  the  speed  of  light,  then  still 
held,  still  in  the  toils,  it  again  sprang  into  the  air  with 
frenzied  shake  and  twist,  whirling  itself  from  side  to 
side,  striking  terrific  blows  in  search  of  the  invisible 
enemy.  Falling,  the  swordfish  plunged  downward,  and 
reached  two  hundred  feet  below  the  surface  and  the 
bottom,  then  turned,  and  rose  with  a  mighty  rush, 
going  high  into  the  air  again,  whirling  itself  completely 
over  in  its  madness,  so  that  it  fell  upon  its  back,  beat 
ing  the  sea  into  a  maelstrom  of  foam  and  spume,  in  its 
blind  and  savage  fury. 

CHARLES  FREDERICK  HOLDER.,  in  Big  Game  at  Sea. 

MAY  18. 

One  is  disposed  to  put  "climate"  in  the  plural  when 
writing  of  so  large  a  state  as  California  and  one  so 
wonderfully  endowed  with  conditions  which  make 
health,  comfort  and  beauty  in  all  seasons.  Its  great 
length  of  coast-line  and  its  mountain  ranges  irregu 
larly  paralleling  that,  offer  a  wealth  of  resource  in  va 
rying  temperature,  altitudes,  shelter  from  the  sea 
breezes  or  exposure  to  them,  perhaps  unequaled  by  any 
state  in  the  union,  or  indeed  by  any  country  in  the 
world. 
MADAME  CAROLINE  SEVERANCE,  in  The  Mother  of  Clubs. 

ir,2 


MAY  17: 


MAY  18. 


MAY  19. 

A  GLOUCESTER  SKIPPER'S  SONG. 
#    *    #    #    * 

Oh,  the  roar  of  shoaling  waters,  and  the  awful,  awful 

sea, 
Busted  shrouds  and  parting  cables,  and  the  white  death 

on  our  lee! 
Oh,   the   black,    black    night    on    Georges,    when    eight 

score  men  were  lost! 
Were  ye  there,  ye  men  of  Gloucester?     Aye,  ye  were; 

and  tossed 
Like  chips  upon   the   water   were  your  little  craft   that 

night — 

Driving,  swearing,  calling  out,  but  ne'er  a  call  of  fright. 
So  knowing  ye  for  what  ye  are,  ye  masters  of  the  sea, 
Here's  to  ye,  Gloucester  fishermen,  a  health  to  ye 

from   me! 

JAMES  B.  CONNOLLY,  in  Scribner's,  May,  1904. 

MAY  20. 

DEDICATION   TO   His   FIRST    BOOK. 

*  *  *  It  is  the  proudest  boast  of  the  profession  of 
literature,  that  no  man  ever  published  a  book  for  self 
ish  purposes  or  with  ignoble  aim.  Books  have  been 
published  for  the  consolation  of  the  distressed ;  for  the 
guidance  of  the  wandering;  for  the  relief  of  the  des 
titute;  for  the  hope  of  the  penitent;  for  uplifting  the 
burdened  soul  above  its  sorrows  and  fears ;  for  the 
general  amelioration  of  the  condition  of  all  mankind ; 
for  the  right  against  the  wrong;  for  the  good  against 
the  bad;  for  the  truth.  This  book  is  published  for 
two  dollars  per  volume. 

ROBERT  J.    BUKDETTE,, 
in    The  Rise  and  Pall  of  the   Mustache. 

154 


MAY  19. 


MAY  20. 


MAY  21. 

THE  YOSEMITE  ROAIJ. 
There  at  last  are  the   snow-peaks,  in  virginal  chastity 

standing ! 

Through   the  nut-pines    I   see   them,   their   ridges   ex 
panding. 

Ye  peaks!  from  celestial  sanctities  benisons  casting, 
Ye  know  not  your  puissant  influence,  lifting  and  last 

ing; 
Nothing   factitious,    self-conscious    or   impious   bides   in 

you; 

On  your  high  serenities 
No  hollow  amenities 

IS)  or  worldly  impurities  cast  their  dread  blight; 
August  and  courageous,  you  stand  for  the  right  4 
The  gods  love  you  and  lend  you  their   soft   robes   of 

white. 

BAILEY  MILLARD,  in  Songs  of  the  Press. 

MAY  22. 

ON  THE  STEPS  OF  THE  LECONTE  MEMORIAL  LODGE, 

YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

I  wonder  not,  whether  it  is  well  with  this  true  seer, 
Who   saw,   while   dwelling    in    the    flesh,     foundations 

strong  and  broad ; 
I  do  not  doubt  that  when  he  ceased  to  worship  in  this 

temple, 

Serene,  he  passed  from  beauty  unto  beauty,  from  God 
to  God. 

BENJAMIN  FAY  MILLS. 

Within,  a  whole  rainbow  is  condensed  in  one  of  these 
magnificent   shells. 

JOSIAH  KEEP,  in   West  Coast  Shells. 

156 


MAY  21 


MAY  22. 


157 


MAY  23. 
To  YOSEMITE. 
The  silence  of  the  centuries, 

The  calm  where  doubtings  cease, 
And  over  all  the  brooding  of  God's  presence 

And  the  spell  of  perfect  peace! 
O  Granite  Cliffs  that  steadfast  face  the  dawn. 

O  Forest  Kings  that  heard  Creation's  sigh! 
Teach  me  thy  simple  creed,  that,  living,  I 

May  live  like  thee.  and  as  serenely  die ! 

K.     F.     GREEN. 


To  THE  UNNAMED  FALL,  IN  THE  YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 
Thou  needest  not  that  any  man  should  name  thee  ; 
God  counts  thine  ethereal  jewels,  one  by  one; 
And,  lest  some  selfish,  inappropriate  word  should  claim 

thee, 
Silent,  we  watch  thee  sparkle  in  the  sun. 

BENJAMIN  FAY  Miu.s. 

MAY  24. 

The  white  man  calls  it  Bridal  Veil.  To  the  Indian 
it  is  Po-ho-no,  Spirit  of  the  Evil  Wind. 

The  white  man,  in  passing,  pauses  to  watch  the^  filmy 
cloud  that  hangs  there  like  a  thousand  yards  of  tulle- 
flung  from  the  crest  of  the  rocky  precipice,  wafted  out 
ward  by  the  breeze  that  blows  ever  and  always  across 
the  Bridal  Veil  Meadows.  By  the  light  of  the  mid- 
afternoon  the  veil  seems  caught  half-way  with  a  clasp 
of  bridal  gems,  seven-hued,  evanescent ;  now  glowing 
with  color,  now  fading  to  clear  white  sun  rays  before 
the  eye. 

BERTHA  H.  SMITH,  in  Yosemtte  Legends. 

158 


MAY  23. 


MAY  24. 


159 


MAY  25. 

MATCHLESS  YOSEMITE. 

High  on  Cloud's  Rest,  behind  the  misty  screen, 
Thy  Genius  sits!    The  secrets  of  thy  birth 
Within  its  bosom  locked !     What  power  can  rend 
The  veil,  and  bid  it  speak— that  spirit  dumb, 
Between  two  worlds,  enthroned  upon  a  Sphinx? 
Guard  well  thine  own,  thou  mystic  spirit!    Let 
One  place  remain  where  Husbandry  shall  fear 
To  tread !    One  spot  on  earth  inviolate, 
As  it  was  fashioned  in  eternity! 
FRED  EMERSON  BROOKS,  in  Old  Abe  and  Other  Poems. 

You  ask  for  my  picture.  1  have  never  had  one 
taken.  I  have  my  reasons.  One  is  that  a  man  always 
seems  to  me  most  of  an  ass  when  smirking  on  card 
board. 

GERTRUDE  ATHKRTON.  in   Rulers   of  Kings. 


MAY  26. 

INVITATION  TO  AN  INDIAN  FEAST  IN  YOSEMITE. 
As  the  time  of  the  feast  drew  near,  runners  were  sent 
across  the  mountains,  carrying  a  bundle  of_  willow- 
sticks,  or  a  sinew  cord  or  leaf  of  dried  grass  tied  with 
knots,  that  the  Monos  might  know  how  many  suns  must 
cross  the  sky  before  they  should  go  to  Ah-wah-nee  to 
share  the  feast  of  venison  with  their  neighbors.  And 
the  Monos  gathered  together  baskets  of  pinion  nuts,  and 
obsidian  arrow-heads,  and  strings  of  shells,  to  ^  carry 
with  them  to  give  in  return  for  acorns  and  chinqua 
pin  nuts  and  basket  willow. 

BERTHA  H.  SMITH,  in  Yosemite  Legends. 

ifio 


MAY  25. 


MAY  26. 


ifli 


MAY  27. 

It  is  owing  to  the  ever  active  missionary  spirit  among 
the  Friars  Minor  (Franciscans)  that  millions  upon  mil 
lions  of  American  Indians  have  obtained  the  Christian 
faith.  The  children  of  St.  Francis  were,  indeed,  the 
principal  factors  in  the  very  discovery  of  America,  in 
asmuch  as  the  persons  most  prominently  connected 
with  that  event  belonged  to  the  Seraphic  Family.  Fr. 
Juan  Perez  de  Marchena,  the  friend  and  counsellor  of 
Christopher  Columbus,  was  the  guardian  or  superior 
of  the  Franciscan  monastery  at  La  Rabida ;  *  *  *  and 
the  great  navigator  likewise  belonged  to  the  Third 
Order. 

FR.  ZEPHYRIN, 
in  Missions  and  Missionaries  of  California. 


MAY  28. 
JUNIPERO  SERRA. 

Not  with  the  clash  of  arms  or  conquering  fleet 
He  came,  who  first  upon  this  kindly  shore 
Planted  the  Cross.     No  heralds  walked  before ; 
But,  as  the  Master  bade,   with  sandalled   feet. 
Weary  and  bleeding  oft,   he  crossed  the  wild. 
Carrying  glad  tidings  to  the  untutored  child 
Of  Nature;  and  that  gracious  mother  smiled, 
And  made  the  dreary  waste  to  bloom  once  more. 
Silently,  selflessly  he  went  and  came ; 
He  sought  to  live  and  die  unheard  of  men — 
Praise  made  his  pale  cheek  glow  as  if  with  shame. 
A  hundred  years  and  more  have  passed  since  then. 
And  yet  the  imprint  of  his  feet  today 
Is  traced  in  flowers  from  here  to  Monterey. 

MARY   E.  MAN  NIX. 

162 


MAY  27. 


MAY  28. 


163 


MAY  29. 
San   Gabriel ! 

1   stand  and  wonder  at   thy   walls 
So  old,  so  quaint ;   a  glory  falls 
Upon  them  as  I  view  the  past, 
And  read  the  story  which  thou  hast 

Preserved  so  well. 

*  *     *     * 

San  Gabriel ! 

What  souls  were  they  who  fashioned  thee 
To  be  a  blessed  charity ! 
What  faith  was  theirs  who  bore  the  cross, 
And  counted  wealth  and  ease  but  loss, 

Of  Christ  to  tell! 

H'         ^         '\~         '\' 

San   Gabriel ! 

A  glamour  of  the  ancient  time 
Remains  with  thee !    Thou  hast  the  rhyme 
Of  some  old  poem,  and  the  scent 
Of   some   old   rose's    ravishment 

Naught  can  dispel ! 

*  *     *     * 

LYMAN  WHITNEY  ALLEN,  in  A  Parable  of  the  Rose. 

MAY  30. 
Wherever  a  green  blade  looks  up, 

A   leaf  lisps   mystery, 
Whereso  a  blossom  holds   its   cup 
A  mist  rings  land  or  sea, 
Wherever   voice   doth   utter   sound 
Or  silence  make  her  round — 
There  worship ;  it  is  holy  ground. 

JOHN  VANCE  CHENEY, 
The  Grace  of  the  Ground,  in  Poems. 

164 


MAY  29. 


MAY  30. 


Hif> 


MAY  31. 

To  MOUNT  WILSON. 
Thou  mystic  one !    Thou  prophet  hoar ! 

Thy  teachings   quicken — man's   shall   fade, 
Ere  man  was  dust  thou  wert  before; 

Thy  bosom  for  his  resting  place  was  made. 
And  when  thou  tak'st  in  thy  embrace 

And  hold'st  me  up  against  the  sky 
And  Earth's  fair  'broideries  I  trace — 

All  girdled  in  by  circling  bands  that  tie 
Unto  her  side  my  destiny — 

Then  unto  me  thou  dost  make  clear 
Why  with  Life's  essence  here  I'm  thrilled. 

Then  all  thy  prophecies  I  hear. 
And  in  my  being  feel  them  all  fulfilled. 

And  as  the  narrow  rim  of  eye 
Contains  the  vast  and  all-encircling  sky. 

So  in  the  confines  of  the  soul 
The  undulating  universe  may  roll. 

And  out  in  space,  my  soul  set  free. 
1  turn  an  astral  forged  key 

Which  opes  the  door  'twixt  God  and  me, 
I  hear  the  secrets  of  Eternity ! 

In  Immortality  I  trust, 
Believing  that  the  cosmic  dust — 

Alike  in  man  and  skies  star-sown — 

Ts  pollen  from  the  Amaranth  blown. 

LANNIE  HAYNES  MARTIN. 

166 


MAY  31. 


Pause    upon    the   gentle    hillside,    view    San    Carlos    by 

the  sea 
'Gainst  pale  light  a   shape   Morisco  wrought   in   faded 

tapestry. 
'Neath    Mt.    Carmel's    brooding    shadow,    peaceful    lies 

the  storied  pile, 
Vnd    the    white-barred    river    near    it    sings    a    requiem 

all  the  while. 

***** 

Where  were  roofs  of  tiles  or  thatches,  roughest  mounds 

mark   even''   side, 

And  where  once  the  busy  courtyard   searching  winds 
find  crevice  wide. 

***** 
AMELIA  WOODWARD  TRUESDELL, 

in  A   California  Pilgrimage. 

167 


JUNE  1. 

In    fifteen   years    the    Mission    of    San    Juan    Bautista 
had  erected  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and  ornate  chap 
els  in  Alta  California,  which,  together  with  the  neces 
sary  buildings   for  the  padres,   living   rooms  and  dor 
mitories  for  the  neophytes,  storehouses  and  corrals  for 
the  grain  and  cattle,  formed  three  sides  of  a  patio  two 
hundred    feet    square,    with    the    corrals    leading    away 
beyond.     The   Indians,   with   only   a    few   teachers    ana 
helpers,  had  done  all  this  work. 

MRS.   A.   S.   C.  FORBES, 
in  Mission   Tales  in  the  Days  of  the  Doits. 

JUNE  2. 

From  his  (the  Indian's)  point  of  view  there  is  per 
haps  love ;  even,  it  may  be,  romance.  Much  depends 
upon  the  standpoint  one  takes.  The  hills  that  look 
high  from  the  valley,  seem  low  looking  down  from  the 
mountain.  *  *  *  For  the  world  over,  under  white  skin 
or  skin  of  bronze-brown,  the  human  heart  throbs  the 
same ;  for  we  are  brothers — aye,  brothers  all ! 

IDAH  MEACHAM  STROBRIDGE,  in  Loom  of  the  Desert. 

We  had  seen  the  spire  of  the  Episcopal  Church, 
which  forms  so  pleasing  a  feature  in  the  bosom  of  the 
valley,  pale  and  fade  from  sight;  the  lofty  walls  of  the 
old  Mission  of  San  Gabriel  were  no  longer  visible 
Suddenly  from  out  the  silence  and  gathering  shades 
fell  upon  our  ears  a  chime  so  musical  and  sweet,  so 
spiritually  clear  and  delicate,  that  had  honest  John  Bun- 
yan  heard  it  he  might  well  have  deemed  himself  ar 
rived  at  the  land  of  Beulah.  *  *  It  was  the  hour  of 
vespers  at  the  Old  Mission. 

BEN   C.   TRUMAN,  in   Semi-Tropical  California. 

168 


JrxK  1 


JUNE  2. 


JUNK  3. 

The  Mission  San  Gabriel  and  its  quadrangle  of 
buildings  made  a  beautiful  picture.  It  nestled  against 
distant  hills,  and  neither  stood  out  from  the  dim  back 
ground  nor  entirely  melted  within  it.  It  attracted  the 
eye—this  pink,  yellow-gray  of  the  little  stone  church 
crowned  with  dull-reddish  tile,  and  supported  by  a  bul 
wark  of  quaint  buttresses.  The  picture  was  perfect- 
but  since  then  the  chill  hands  of  both  temblor  and  tern 
pest  have  touched  rudely  the  charm  and  blighted  the 
pride  of  all  of  the  California  Missions— San  Gabriel 
Archangel. 

MRS.  A.  S.  C.. FORBES, 
in  Mission   Tales  in  the  Days  of  the  Dons. 

JUNE  4. 

Obey  my  word,  O  Ten-ie-ya,  and  your  people  shall 
be  many  as  the  blades  of  grass,  and  none  shall  dare  to 
bring  war  unto  Ah-wah-nee.  But  look  you  ever,  my 
son,  against  the  white  horsemen  of  the  great  plains 
beyond,  for  once  they  have  crossed  the  western  moun 
tains,  your  tribe  will  scatter  as  the  dust  before  the  des 
ert  wind,  and  never  come  together  again. 

BERTHA  H.  SMITH,  in  Yosetnite  Legends. 

San  Juan,  Aunt  Phoebe,  is  one  of  the  places  where 
there  is  an  old  Mission.  People  in  this  country  (Cali 
fornia)  think  a  great  deal  of  them.  I've  remarked  to 
Ephraim,  "Many's  the  time,"  says  I,  "that  the  Missions 
seem  to  do  more  real  good  than  the  churches.  They 
get  hold  of  the  people  better,  somehow.  I'll  be  real 
glad  to  set  me  down  in  one,  and  I  do  hope  they'll  have 
some  real  lively  hymns  to  kind  of  cheer  us  up." 

ALBERTA  LAWRENCE,  in  The  Travels  of  Photbc  Ann. 
170 


JUNE  3. 


JUNE  4. 


171 


JUNE  5. 

In  proper  California  fashion  we  made  our  nooning 
by  the  roadside,  pulling  up  under  the  shade  of  a  hos 
pitable  sycamore  and  turning  Sorreltop  out  to  graze. 
We  drew  water  from  a  traveling  little  river  close  at 
hand,  made  a  bit  of  camp-fire  with  dry  sticks  that  lay 
about,  and  in  half  an  hour  were  partaking  of  chops  and 
potatoes  and  tea  to  the  great  comfort  of  our  physical 
nature. 

CHARLES  FRANCIS^  SAUNDERS, 
in   A   Pala   Pilgrimage,   The   Travel  Magazine. 

JUNE  6. 

Yellow-white  the  Mission  gleamed  like  an  opal  in  a 
setting  of  velvety  ranges  under  turquoise  skies.  About 
its  walls  were  the  clustered  adobes  of  the  Mexicans, 
like  children  creeping  close  to  the  feet  of  the  one 
mother;  and  beyond  that  the  illimitable  ranges  of  mesa 
and  valley,  of  live-oak  groves  and  knee-deep  meadows, 
of  countless  springs  and  canyons  of  mystery,  whence 
gold  was  washed  in  the  freshets;  and  over  all,  elo 
quent,  insistent,  appealing,  the  note  of  the  meadow- 
lark  cutting  clearly  through  the  hoof-beats  of  the  herd 
and  the  calls  of  the  vaqueros. 

MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN,  in  For  the  Soul  of  Rafael. 

The  missions  should  be  thought  of  today  as  they 
were  at  their  best,  when,  after  thirty  years  of  struggle 
and  hardship,  they  had  attained  the  height  of  their  use 
fulness,  which  was  followed  by  thirty  years  of  increase 
and  prosperity,  material  as  well  as  spiritual— the  proud 
outcome  of  so  humble  a  beginning — before  their  final 
passing  away. 

CHARLES  FRANKLIN  CARTER, 
in    The  Missions  of  Nueva  California. 

172 


JUNK 


JUNE  6. 


JUNE  7. 

Already  the  Emperor  has  given  to  us  many  rine 
paintings,  vestments  and  a  chime  of  sweetest  bells. 
How  we  long  to  hear  them  calling  out  over  the  sea 
of  vast  silence,  turning  the  white  quiet  into  coral  hues 
of  deeper  thrill!  The  church  bells  singing  to  the  peo 
ple  of  Al-lak-shak,  recall  the  wandering  Padres'  la 
bors  among  your  thousands  here  in  California.  Those 
who  cannot  understand  the  great  words  of  the  teach 
ers  may  look  upon  the  beauteous  pictures  of  the  Ma 
donna  and  the  Child;  all  can  understand  that  love. 

MRS.  A.  S    C.  FORBES, 
in  Mission  Tales  in  the  Days  of  the  Dons. 


JUNE  8. 

JUNE.    (!N  CALIFORNIA.) 
Oh  June!  thou  comest  once  again 
With  bales  of  hay  and  sheaves  of  grain, 
That  make  the  farmer's  heart  rejoice, 
And  anxious  herds  lift  up  their  voice. 
I  hear  thy  promise,  sunny  maid, 
Sound  in  the  reapers'  ringing  blade, 
And  in  the  laden  harvest  wain 
That  rumbles  through  the  stubble  plain. 
Ye  tell  a  tale  of  bearded  stacks, 
Of  busy  mills  and  floury  sacks, 
Of    cars    oppressed    with    cumbrous    loads, 
Hard  curving  down  their  iron  roads 
Of  vessels  speeding  to  the  breeze, 
Their  snowy  sails  in  stormy  seas, 
While  bearing  to  some  foreign  land 
The  products  of  this  Golden  Strand. 

Cox,  in  Comic  Yarns. 


174 


JUNE  8. 


175 


JUNE  9. 

MADAME   MODJESKA'S   DEVOTION    TO   THE   CATHOLIC- 
CHURCH. 

During  the  hey-day  of  A.  P.  A.-ism  in  this  section, 
Madame  Modjeska  returned  from  a  triumphant  tour 
and  played  for  a  week  in  Los  Angeles.  *  *  She  se 
lected  as  her  principal  piece — Mary  Stuart.  *  At 
the  final  scene  of  the  play,  as  Mary  Stuart  passes  out 
to  her  execution,  Modjeska  in  the  title-role  held  us 
spellbound  by  the  intense  emotions  of  the  situation. 
The  sight  of  her  beautiful  face,  upturned  to  heaven, 
showing  the  expression  of  the  zeal  and  fervor  of  her 
Catholic  heart,  was  intensified  by  the  manner  in  which 
she  carried  the  crucifix  and  rosary  in  her  hand,  and 
was  the  last  glimpse  of  her  as  she  disappeared  from 
the  stage.  There  was  a  thrill  passed  over  the  audi 
ence,  which  had  its  effect,  not  only  upon  the  unbeliever, 
but  likewise  upon  the  pusillanimous  member  of  the 

church. 

JOSEPH  SCOTT,  in  The  Tidings. 

JUNE  10. 

The  Mission   floor  was  with   weeds  o'ergrown, 
And  crumbling  and  shaky   its  walls  of  stone; 
Its  roof  of  tiles,  in  tiers  on  tiers, 
Had  stood  the  storms  of  a  hundred  years. 
An   olden,    weird,    medieval    style 
Clung  to  the  mouldering,  gloomy  pile, 
And  the  rhythmic  voice  of  the  breaking  waves 
Sang  a  lonesome  dirge  in  its  land  of  graves. 
Strangely  awed  I   felt,  that  day, 
As    I    walked   in    the    Mission    old   and    gray— 
The  Mission   Carmel  at  Monterey. 

MADGE  MORRIS  WAGNER,  in  Mystery  of  Carmel. 

176 


JUNE  9. 


JUNK  10. 


177 


JUNK  11. 

Up  to  the  American  invasion,  the  traveler  in  Cali 
fornia  found  welcome  in  whatsoever  house.  Not  food 
and  bed  and  tolerance  only,  but  warm  hearts  and  home. 
Fresh  clothing  was  laid  out  in  his  chamber.  His  jaded 
horse  went  to  the  fenceless  pasture;  a  new  and  prob 
ably  better  steed  was  saddled  at  the  door  when  the 
day  came  that  he  must  go.  And  in  the  houses  which 
had  it,  a  casual  fistful  of  silver  lay  upon  his  table,  from 
which  he  was  expected  to  help  himself  against  his 
present  needs.  It  was  a  society  in  which  hotels  could 
not  survive  (even  long  after  they  were  attempted)  be 
cause  every  home  was  open  to  the  stranger;  and  or 
phan  asylums  were  impossible.  Not  because  fathers 
and  mothers  never  died,  but  because  no  one  was  civ 
ilized  enough  to  shirk  orphans. 

CHARLES  F.  L/UMMIS. 

in    The    Right    Hand    of    the    Continent,    Out    West, 
.lugust.   1892. 


JUNE  12. 

Go  as  far  as  you  dare  in  the  heart  of  a  lonely  land, 
you  cannot  go  so  far  that  life  and  death  are  not  be 
fore  you.  Painted  lizards  slip  in  and  out  of  rock 
crevices,  and  pant  on  the  white-hot  sands.  Birds, 
humming-birds  even,  nest  in  the  cactus  scrub ;  wood 
peckers  befriend  the  demoniac  yuccas;  out  of  the  stark, 
treeless  waste  rings  the  music  of  the  night-singing 
mocking  bird.  If  it  be  summer  and  the  sun  well  down, 
there  will  IDC  a  burrowing  owl  to  call.  Strange,  furry, 
tricksey  things  dart  across  the  open  places,  or  sit  mo 
tionless  in  the  conning  towers  of  the  creosote. 

MARY   AUSTIN,  in    The  Land  of  Little   Rain. 

178 


JUNE  11. 


JUNE  12. 


179 


JUNE  13. 

EL  CAM i NO  REAL. 

El  Camino  Real— "The  Royal  Road,"  is  the  poetic 
name  given  to  the  original  government  road  of  Span 
ish  California  that  joined  the  missions  from  San  Diego 
to  San  Francisco  de  Solano.  The  route  selected  by  the 
Franciscan  Fathers  was  the  most  direct  road  that  was 
practicable,  connecting  their  four  Presidios,  three  Pu 
eblos  and  twenty-one  Missions.  By  restoring  this  road 
and  making  it  a  State  Highway  with  the  twenty-one 
missions  as  stations,  California  will  come  to  possess 
the  most  historic,  picturesque,  romantic  and  unique 
boulevard  in  the  world. 

MRS.  A.  S.  C.  FORBES,  in  Missions  and  Landmarks. 


JUNE  14. 

Because  we  have  such  faith  in  the  charms  of  Cali 
fornia;  because  we  have  such  faith  in  the  future  of 
our  city  that  we  believe  that  once  strangers  come  here 
they  will  remain  in  it,  as  of  old  the  hero  remained  in 
the"  land  of  the  ever-young;  because  we  believe  that 
this  state  can  support  ten,  aye,  twenty  times  its  present 
population,  we  extend  an  invitation  to  all  home-seekers, 
no  matter  where  found.  Come  to  California!  Its  val 
leys  are  wide  open  for  all  to  come  through  and  build 
therein  their  homes  of  peace.  Its  coasts  teem  with 
wealth.  The  riches  of  its  mountains  have  not  been 
half  exploited.  We  believe  that  all  that  is  necessary 
to  fill  this  State  with  a  great  and  prosperous  popula 
tion  is  that  the  people  should  see  the  State  and  know 
it  as  it  is. 

FATHER  P.  C.  \ORKE, 
in  The  Warder  of  Two  Continents. 

ISO 


JUNE  13. 


JUNE  14. 


181 


JUNE  15. 
EL  CAMINO  REAL. 

it's  a  long   road   and   sunny,   and    the    fairest    in    the 
world — 

There  are  peaks  that  rise  above  it  in  their  sunny  man 
tles  curled, 

And  it  leads  from  the   mountains  through  a  hedge  of 
chaparral, 

Down  to  the  waters  where  the  sea  gulls  call. 

It's  a  long  road  and  sunny,  it's  a  long  road  and  old. 

And  the  brown   padres   made   it   for  the   flocks   of  the 
fold; 

They  made   it    for  the   sandals   of   the   sinner-folk   that 
trod 

From   the    fields    in    the    open    to   the    shelter-house    of 

God. 

*     *     *     * 

We  will  take  the  road  together  through  the  morning's 

golden    glow, 
And  will  dream  of  those  who  trod  it  in  the  mellowed 

long  ago. 

JOHN   S.  McGnOARTY,  in  Just  California. 

JUNE  16. 

Mrs.  Bryton  surveyed  the  coarse  furnishings  of  tru- 
adobe  with  disgust  as  she  was  led  to  the  one  room 
where  she  could  secure  sleeping  accommodation.  It 
contained  three  beds  with  as  many  different  colored 
spreads,  queer  little  pillows,  and  drawn-work  on  one 
towel  hanging  on  a  nail.  The  floor  had  once  been 
tiled  with  square  mission  bricks ;  but  many  were  bro 
ken,  some  were  gone,  and  the  empty  spaces  were  so 
many  traps  for  unwary  feet. 

MARAH  ELI. is  RYAN,  in  I' or  the  Soul  of  Rafael. 

182 


JUNE  15. 


JUNE  16. 


183 


JUNK  17. 

Of  all  the  old  grandees  who,  not  forty  years  before, 
had  called  the  Californias  their  own;  living  a  life  of 
Arcadian  magnificence,  troubled  by  few  cares,  a  life 
of  riding  over  vast  estates  clad  in  silk  and  lace,  botas  and 
sombreros,  mounted  upon  steeds  as  gorgeously  capari 
soned  as  themselves,  eating,  drinking,  serenading  at 
the  gratings  of  beautiful  women,  gambling,  horse-racing, 
taking  part  in  splendid  religious  festivals,  with  only 
the  languid  excitement  of  an  occasional  war  between 
rival  governors  to  disturb  the  placid  surface  of  their 
lives — of  them  all  Don  Roberto  was  a  man  of  wealth 
and  consequence  today. 

GERTRUDE  ATHERTON,  in  The  California**. 

JUNE  18. 

The  house  was  a  ruinous  adobe  in  the  old  Mexican 
quarter  of  Los  Angeles.  The  great,  bare,  whitewashed 
room  contained  only  the  altar  and  a  long  mirror  in  a 
tarnished  gilt  frame;  one,  the  symbol  of  earthly  van 
ity  ;  the  other,  the  very  portal  of  heaven.  All  the  carved 
mahogany  furniture  had  long  since  gone  to  buy  food 
and  charcoal  or  a  rare  black  gown. 

AMANDA  MATHEWS,  in    The  Old  Pueblo. 

All  sorts  of  men  came  here  in  early  days — poor  men 
of  good  family  who  had   failed  at  home,  or  were  too 
proud  to  work  there ;  desperadoes,  adventurers,  men  of 
middle   life   and   broken    fortunes — all   of   them   expect 
ing  everything  from  the   new   land,  and   ready  to  tear 
the  heart  out  of  any  one  who  got  in  their  way.  * 
Of   course,   there   are    Californians   and   Californians. 
GERTRUDE  ATHERTON,  in  A   Whirl  Asunder. 

184 


JUNE  17. 


JUNE  18. 


185 


JUNE  19. 

Beneath  the  surface — ah,  there  He  a  numerous  host, 
sad  relics  of  bygone  times.  In  our  cities  in  poverty, 
wretchedness,  and,  alas!  too  often  in  dissipation,  or, 
happier  fate,  in  canyon  or  on  hillside  where  wood 
man's  axe  is  heard,  one  may  find  men  wearily,  sadly, 
often  faithfully  performing  their  daily  labor  who  were 
born  heirs  to  leagues  of  land  where  ranged  mighty 
herds  of  cattle  and  horses — men  who  as  boys,  per 
haps,  played  their  games  of  quoits  with  golden  slugs 
from  the  Indian  baskets  sitting  about  the  courtyard 
of  their  fathers'  houses. 

HELEN  ELLIOTT  BANDINI, 
in   Some  of  Our  Spanish  Families. 

JUNE  20. 

Jameson's  cord  led  out  to  the  Spanish  quarter.  Some 
old  senoras,  their  heads  covered  with  shawls,  their 
clothes  redolent  with  the  smell  of  garlic,  from  time 
to  time  shambled  across  his  pathway.  They  were  heavy 
old  women,  in  worn  flapping  slippers  and  uncorseted 
figures.  *  *  *  With  them,  this  saying,  "It  is  time  to  be 
old,"  to  throw  down  the  game  like  some  startled  player, 
and  cast  one's  self  on  the  mercies  of  the  Virgin,  had 
come  twenty  years  or  so  before  it  should. 

FRANCES  CHARLES,  in  The  Siege  of  Youth. 

A  JUNE  WEDDING. 

The   sweetheart   of   Summer  weds   today — 
Pride  of  the  Wild  Rose  clan  ; 
A  Butterfly  fay 
For  a  bridesmaid  gay, 
And  a  Bumblebee  for  best  man. 
CHARLES  ELMER  JENNEY,  in  Out  West,  June,  1902. 

tftt 


JUNE  19. 


JUNE  20. 


187 


JUNE  21. 

The)'  went  to  a  one-room  adobe  on  the  plaza.  A 
rich,  greasy  odor  came  out  from  it  with  puffs  of  the 
onion-laden  smoke  of  frying  things  which  blurred  the 
light  of  the  one  candle  set  in  the  neck  of  a  bottle.  *  *  * 
In  the  centre  of  the  floor  a  circle  of  blackened  stones 
held  a  fire  of  wood  coals,  on  the  top  of  which  rested  a 
big  clay  griddle.  Cakes  of  ground  corn  were  frying  there, 
and  on  the  stove  were  enchiladas  and  tamalcs  and 
chili-con-carne  being  kept  warm.  The  air  was  thick 
with  the  pungent,  strong  smells. 

GWENDOLEN   OVERTOX,  in    The   Golden    Chain. 

JUNE  22. 

The  homely  house  furnishings  seemed  to  leap  out  of 
the  darkness";  the  stove,  the  littered  table,  and  the 
couch,  the  iron  crucifix,  and  the  carved  cradle  in  the 
corner — all  his  long  life  Juan  will  see  them  so — and 
'Cencion  turned;  the  dusky  veil  was  blown  and  rent 
like  the  sea  mist,  revealing— Holy  Mother  of  Heaven! 
her  father,  Cenaga,  the  outlaw !  Juan  Lopez  fell  on 
his  knees  below  the  window,  the  smoking  rifle  clattered 
from  his  broken  grasp,  and  the  missile  sped,  aimless 
and  harmless,  high  into  the  adobe  wall. 

GERTRUDE   B.  MILLARD, 

in  An  Outlaws  Daughter,  S.  I'.  Argonaut,  Nor.,  1896. 

IN   HUMBOLDT. 

Dim  in  the  noonday  fullness, 
Dark  in  the  day's  sweet  morn — 

So  sacred  and  deep  are  the  canyons 

Where  the  beautiful  rivers  are  born. 
LILLIAN  H.  SHUEY,  in  Among  the  Redwoods. 

188 


JUNE  22. 


JUNE  23. 

The  glow  of  the  days  of  Comstock  glory  was  still 
in  the  air.  San  Francisco  was  still  the  city  of  gold 
and  silver.  The  bonanza  kings  had  not  left  it,  but 
were  trying  to  accommodate  themselves  to  the  palaces 
they  were  rearing  with  their  loose  millions.  Society 
yet  retained  its  cosmopolitan  tone,  careless,  brilliant, 
and  unconventional.  There  were  figures  _  in  it  that  had 
made  it  famous — men  who  began  life  with  a  pick  and 
shovel  and  ended  it  in  an  orgy  of  luxury;  women, 
whose  habits  of  early  poverty  fell  off  them  like  a  gar 
ment,  and  who,  carried  away  by  their  power,  displayed 
the  barbaric  caprices  of  Roman  empresses. 

The    sudden    possession    of    vast    wealth    had    intoxi 
cated   this   people,   lifting  them    from   the   level   of  the 
commonplace  into  a  saturnalia  of  extravagance.     Pov 
erty,   the   only   restraint   many   of  them   had   ever   felt, 
was  gone.     Money  had  made  them  lawless,  whimsical, 
bizarre.     It  had  developed  all-conquering  personalities, 
potent  individualities.     They  were  still  playing  with  it. 
wondering  at  it,  throwing  it  about. 

(TERALDTNE  BONNER,  in  Tomorrow's  Tangle. 

JUNE  24. 

Menlo  Park,  originally  a  large  Spanish  grant,  had 
lung  since  been  cut  up  into  country  places  for  what 
may  be  termed  the  "Old  Families  of  San  Francisco!" 
The  eight  or  ten  families  that  owned  this  haughty  pre 
oinct  were  as  exclusive,  as  conservative,  as  any  group 
of  ancient  families  in  Europe.  Many  of  them  had  been 
established  here  for  twenty  years,  none  for  less  than 
fifteen.  This  fact  set  the  seal  of  gentle  blood  upon 
them  for  all  time  in  the  annals  of  California. 

GERTRUDE  ATHERTON.  in  The  Calif  ornians. 

190 


JUNE  23. 


JUNE  24. 


191 


JUNE  25. 

John  Bidwell,  prince  of  California  pioneers,  was  my 
chief  in  a  memorable  camping  trip  in  the  northern 
Sierras.  What  a  magnificent  camper  was  Bidwell ! 
What  a  world  of  experience,  what  a  wealth  of  rem 
iniscence  !  What  a  knowledge ;  what  unbounded  hos 
pitality!  Not  while  life  lasts  can  I  forget  the  gentle 
yet  commanding  greatness  of  this  man,  whose  friend 
ships  and  benefactions  were  as  broad  as  his  spread 
ing  acres  of  Rancho  Chico. 

ROCKWKU,  D.   HUNT, 

in    Cainpiinj    Out    in    California,    Overland    Monthly, 
September,    1907. 

JUNE  26. 

The  average  stage-driver  merits  one's  liveliest  grat 
itude.  He  is  the  essence  of  good  nature  and  thought- 
fulness.  His  stories,  tinctured  by  his  own  quaint  per 
sonality,  ward  off  the  drowsy  wings  of  sleep  and  ma 
terially  shorten  the  long  hours  of  the  night.  *  *  *  To 
the  households  scattered  along  his  route  he  is  the 
never-failing  bearer  of  letters,  and  newspapers,  and  all 
sorts  of  commodities,  from  a  sack  of  flour  to  a  spool 
of  cotton.  His  interest  in  their  individual  needs  is 
universal,  and  the  memory  he  displays  is  simply  phe 
nomenal.  He  has  traveled  up  and  down  among  them 
for  many  years,  and  calls  each  one  by  his  or  her  given 
name,  and  in  return  is  treated  by  them  as  one  of  the 
family.  He  is  sympathetic  and  friendly  without  im 
pertinence,  and  in  spite  of  your  aching  head  and  dis 
jointed  bones,  you  feel  an  undercurrent  of  regret  that 
civilization  will  soon  do  away  with  these  fresh  and 

original    characters.  .„  T^ 

NlNETTA   EAMES, 

in   Overland  Monthly,  January,   1888. 
192 


JUNH  25. 


J  UNE  26. 


193 


JUNE  27. 

When  the  June  sunshine  gladdened  the  Sacramento 
Valley,  three  little  bare-footed  girls  walked  here  and 
there  among  the  homes  and  tents  of  Sutter's  Fort 
They  were  scantily  clothed,  and  one  carried  a  thin 
blanket.  At  night  they  said  their  prayers,  lay  down 
in  whatever  tent  they  happened  to  be,  and,  folding  the 
blanket  about  them,  fell  asleep  in  each  other's  arms. 
When  they  were  hungry  they  asked  food  of  whomso 
ever  they  met.  If  anyone  inquired  who  they  were, 
they  answered  as  their  mother  had  taught  them:  "We 
arc  the  children  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  George  Donner." 
But  they  added  something  which  they  had  learned 
since.  It  was :  "And  our  parents  are  dead." 

C.  F.  MrGi.ASHAN,  in  History  of  the  Donner.  Party. 

JUNE  28. 

This  cart  was  gaily  decorated  with  a  canopy  which 
was  in  fact  an  exquisitely  embroidered  silken  bed 
spread.  The  background  was  of  grass-green  silk,  em 
broidered  over  the  entire  field  with  brightest  red  and 
yellow,  pink  and  white  roses,  with  intertwining  leaves 
and  steins,  making  the  old  carreta  appear  to  be  a  real 
rose-bower  blooming  along  the  King's  Highway.  From 
the  edges  hung  a  rich,  deep,  silken  knotted  fringe.  Be 
neath  the  heavy  fringe  again  hung  lace  curtains. 

MRS.   A.    S.   C.   FORBES.. 
in  Mission   Talcs  in   the  Davs  of  the   Dons. 

.\  half-naked  beggar  will  find  a  dirty  ribbon  out  o 
an  ash-barrel  to  ornament  himself,  if  he  happens  to  b 
a  she.  *  *  We  women  are  such  striking  guys  with 
out  our  first  little  aids  to  the  ugly. 

MIRIAM  MICHEI.SON.  in  Anthony  Overman. 

194 


JUNE  27. 


JUNE  28. 


195 


JUNE  29. 

During  this  unsettled  period  (.1849),  the  "judge  of 
first  instance,"  or  alcalde,  sat  each  day  in  the  little 
school-room  on  the  plaza  of  San  Francisco,  trying  cases, 
and  rendering  that  speedy  justice  that  was  then  more 
desirable  than  exact  justice,  since  men's  time,  in  those 
early  days  of  1849,  was  worth  from  sixteen  dollars  to 
one  hundred  dollars  per  day.  The  judge  listened  to 
brief  arguments,  announced  his  decision,  took  his  fees, 
and  called  up  another  case ;  hardly  once  in  a  hundred 
trials  was  there  any  thought  of  an  appeal  to  the  Gov 
ernor  at  Monterey. 

CHARI.KS   HOWARD  SHINN,  in   Mining-Camps. 


JUNE  30. 

Like  the  senators  Cineas  found  at  Rome,  they  were 
an  assembly  of  kings,  above  law,  who  dealt  out  justice 
fresh  and  evenly  balanced  as  from  the  hand  of  the 
eternal.  In  all  the  uprisings  in  California  there  has 
never  been  manifested  any  particular  penchant  on  the 
part  of  the  people  for  catching  and  hanging  criminals. 
They  do  not  like  it.  Naturally  the  law  detests  vigilance 
because  vigilance  is  a  standing  reproach  to  la\\'.  Let 
the  law  look  to  it  and  do  its  duty. 

HUBERT  HOWE  BANCROFT,  in   Popular  Tribunals. 

AMONG  THE  MARIPOSA  BIG  TREES. 
Older  than  man  or  beast  or  bird, 
Ancient  when  God  first  spake  and  Adam   heard— 
We  gaze  with  souls  profoundly  stirred 
And  plead  for  one  revealing  word. 
But  the  great  trees  all  are  silent. 

BENJAMIN  FAY  MILLS. 

196 


JUNE  29. 


TUNE  30. 


197 


JULY  1. 

VlNTAGK     IN     THK     GoLI>KN     LAND. 

O    fruit    of    changeless,    ever-changing    beauty! 
Heavy  with  summer  and  the  gift  of  love— 
Caressingly  I  gather  and  lay  you  down  ; 
Ensilvered  as  with  dew,  the  innocent  bloom 
Of  quiet  days,  yet  thrilling  with  the  warmth 
Of  life — tumultuous  blood  o'  the  earth  ! 
The  vital  sap,  the  honey-laden  juice 
Dripping  with  ripeness,  yields  to  murmuring  bee 
A  pleasant  burden  ;  and  the  meadow-lark 
With   slow,   voluptuous  beak  the  nectar   drinks 

From   the   pierced   purple. 

***** 

How  good  it  is,  to  sense  the  vineyard  life ! 

To    touch    the    fresh-veined    leaves,    the    straggling 

stems, 

The  heavy  boughs  that  bend  along  the  ground ; 
And  like  a  gay  Bacchante,  pluck  the  fruit 
And  taste  the  imperial  flavors,  beauty-wild 
And  singing  child-songs  with  the  bee  and  bird, 
Deep  in  the  vineyard's  heart,  'ncath  the  open  sky- 
Wide,  wide,  and  blue,  filled  with  sun-flooded  space 
And  the  silent  song  of  the  ripening  of  days ! — 
Eternal  symbol  of  the  bearing  earth — 
Harvest  and  vintage. 

RUBY  ARCHER. 

JULY  2. 

Whatever  you  believe  when  you  are  alone  at  night 
with  the  little  imp  of  conscience  seated  on  the  bedpost 
and  whispering  to  you  what  in  do.  whatever  you  be 
lieve  to  be  best  for"  yourself  and  best  for  your  city  at 
that  time,  you  do  that  thing  and  you  won't  be  far  wrong. 

FuRUSETH. 


JUT,Y 


JULY  2. 


199 


JULY  3. 

Above  an  elevation  of  four  thousand  feet  timber 
is  quite  abundant.  Along  the  river-bottoms  and  low 
grounds  the  sycamore  is  found  as  clean-limbed,  tall  and 
stately  as  elsewhere.  The  cottonwood,  too,  is  com 
mon,  though  generally  dwarfed,  scraggy  and  full  of 
dead  limbs.  A  willow  still  more  scraggy,  and  having 
many  limbs  destroyed  with  mistletoe,  is  often  found  in 
the  same  places.  The  elder  rises  above  the  dignity  of 
n  shrub,  or  under-shrub,  but  can  hardly  be  found  a 
respectable  tree.  Two  varieties  of  oak  are  common, 
rind  the  alder  forms  here  a  fine  tree  along  the  higher 
water-courses. 

T.   S.  VAX  DYKE,  in  Southern   California, 


JULY  4. 

A  WESTERN  FOURTH. 

Here,   where   Peralta's   cattle  used  to   stray ; 
Here,  where  the  Spaniards  in  their  early  day 
Rode,  jingling,  booted,   spurred,  nor   ever  guessed 
Our  race  would  owrn  the  land  by  them  possessed ; 
Here,  where  Castilian  bull-fights  left  their  stain 
Of  blood  upon  the  soil  of  this  New  Spain; 
Here,  where  old  live-oaks,  spared  till  we  condemn. 
Still  wait  within  this  city  named  for  them — 
We  celebrate,  with  bombshell  and  with  rhyme 
Our  noisiest  Day  of  Days  of  yearly  time ! 
O  bare  Antonio's  hills  that  rim  our  sky — 
Antonio's  hills,  that  used  to  know   Tuly 
As  but  a  time  of  sleep  beneath  the  sun — 
Such   days  of  languorous   dreaming  are  all  done ! 

MARY  BAMFORD, 
in  Fourth  of  July  Celebration,  Oakland,  1902 

200 


JULY  3 


JULY  4. 


201 


JULY  5. 

THE  LIVE-OAKS. 
In  massy  green,  upon  the  crest 

Of  many  a  slanting  hill, 
By  gentle  wind  and  sun  caressed, 

The  live-oaks  carry  still 
A  ponderous  head,  a  sinewy  breast, 

A  look  of  tameless  will. 
They  plant   their   roots   full   firmly   deep, 

As   for  the   avalanche; 
And  warily  and  strongly  creep 

Their  slow  trunks  to  the  branch  ; 
A  subtle,  devious  way  they  keep, 

Thrice  cautious  to  be  stanch. 
A  mighty  hospitality 

At  last  the  builders  yield, 
For  man  and  horse  and  bird  and  bee 

A  hospice   and   a   shield, 
Whose  monolithic  mystery 

A  curious  power  concealed. 

RUBY  ARCHER,  in  Los  Angeles  Times. 

JULY  6. 

FATE  AND  I. 
"Thine    the    fault,    not    mine,"    I    cried. 

Brooding   bitterly, 
And  Fate  looked  grim  and  once  again 

Closed  in  and  grappled  me. 
"Mine,  not  thine,  the  fault,"  T  said, 

Discerning  verity, 
And  Fate  arose  and  clasped  my  hand 

And  made  a  man  of  me. 

HAROLD  S.  SYMMES, 

in  The  American  Magazine,  April,  1909. 

202 


JULY  5. 


JULY  6. 


203 


JULY  7. 

THE  BROTHERHOOD  ui<  TREES. 
Dear  brotherhood  of  trees !     With  you  we  find 
Robust  and  hearty  friendship,  free  from  all 
The  laws  of  petty  gods  men  travail  for. 
No  wrangle  here  o'er  things  of  small  avail — 
No  knavery,  nor  charity  betrayed — 
But  comrade  beings — stalwart,  steadfast,  good. 
You  help  the  world  in  the  noblest  way  of  all — 
By  living  nobly — showing  in  your  lives 
The  utmost  beauty,  the  full  power  and  love 
That  through  your  wisdom  and  your  long  desire 
Thrill  in  your  vibrant  veins  from  heart  of  earth. 
Open  your  arms.  O  Trees,  for  us  who  come 
With  woodland  longings  in  our  pilgrim  souls! 

RUBY  ARCHER. 

JULY  8. 

The  scene  was  a  ravine  that  had  been  cloven  into 
the  flank  of  a  mighty  mountain  as  if  by  the  stroke  of 
a  giant's  axe.  For  about  half  a  mile  this  gash  ran 
sharp  and  narrow ;  but  at  the  upper  end,  the  resting 
place  of  the  travelers,  it  widened  into  a  spacious  am 
phitheatre,  dotted  with  palm  trees  that  rose  with  clean 
cylindrical  boles  sixty  to  eighty  feet  before  spreading 
their  crowns  of  drooping  leafage  against  the  azure  of 
a  cloudless  sky — a  wonderful  touch  of  Egypt  and  the 
East  to  surroundings  typical  of  the  American  Far  West. 
EDMUND  MITCHELL,  in  In  Desert  Keeping. 

The  noblest  life— the  life  of  labor; 
The  noblest  love— the  love  of  neighbor. 
LORENZO    Sosso,   in    Wisdom   for   the    H'tse. 

204 


JUI,Y 


20.1 


JULY  9. 

THE  LIVE  OAKS  AT  -MENU)  PARK. 
The  road  wound  for  some  half  mile  through  a 
stretch  of  uncultivated  land,  dotted  with  the  forms  of 
huge  live-oaks.  The  grass  beneath  them  was  burnt 
gray  and  was  brittle  and  slippery.  The  massive  trees, 
some  round  and  compact  and  so  densely  leaved  that 
they  were  impervious  to  rain  as  an  umbrella,  others 
throwing  out  long,  gnarled  arms  as  if  spellbound  in 
some  giant  throe  of  pain,  cast  vast  slanting  shadows 
upon  the  parched  ground.  Some  seemed,  like  trees  in 
Dore's  drawings,  to  be  endowed  with  a  grotesque, 
weird  humanness  of  aspect,  as  though  an  imprisoned 
dryad'  or  gnome  were  struggling  to  escape,  causing 
the  mighty  trunk  to  bow  and  writhe,  and  sending 
tremors  of  life  along  each  convulsed  limb.  A  mellow 
hoariness  marked  them  all,  due  to  their  own  richly 
subdued  coloring  and  the  long  garlands  of  silvery  moss 
that  hung  from  their  boughs  like  an  old,  rich  growth 
of  hair. 

GERALDTNE  BONNER,  in  Tomorrow's  Tangle. 

JULY  10. 
MADRON  A. 

Xo  other  of  our  trees,  to  those  who  know  it  in  its 
regions  of  finest  development,  makes  so  strong  an  ap 
peal  to  man's  imagination — to  his  love  of  color,  of  joy 
ful  bearing,  of  sense  of  magic,  of  surprise  and  change. 
He  walks  the  woods  in  June  or  July  and  rustles  the 
mass  of  gold-brown  leaves  fresh  fallen  under  foot,  or 
rides  for  unending  weeks  across  the  Mendocino  ranges 
— and  always  with  a  sense  of  fresh  interest  and  stimu 
lation  at  the  varying  presence  of  this  tree. 

W.  L.  JEPSON,  in   Trees  of  California. 

206 


JULY  9. 


JULY  10. 


207 


JULY  11. 

THE  WOODS  OF  THE  WEST. 
Oh,  woods  of  the  west,  leafy  woods  that  1  love. 

Where  through  the  long  days  I  have  heard 
The  prayer  of  the  wind  in  the  branches  above, 

And  the  tremulous  song  of  the  bird. 
Where  the  clust'ring  blooms  of  the  dog-wood  hang  o'er 

White  stars  in  the  dusk  of  the  pine, 
And  down  the  dim  aisles  of  the  old  forest  pour 

The  sunbeams  that  melt  into  wine! 
*     *     *     * 

Oh,  woods  of  the  west,  I  am  sighing  today 

For  the  sea-songs  your  voices  repeat, 
For  the  evergreen  glades,  for  the  glades  far  away 

From  the  stifling  air  of  the  street, 
And  I  long,  ah,  I  long  to  be  with  you  again 

And  to  dream  in  that  region  of  rest, 
Forever  apart  from  this  warring  of  men— 

Oh,  wondei '  :1  woods  of  the  west ! 

HERBERT  BASHFORD,  in  At  the  Shrine  of  Song. 

JULY  12. 

The  Mohave  yucca  is  a  remarkable  plant,  which  re 
sembles  in  its  nature  both  the  cactus  and  the  palm 
It  is  found  nowhere  save  in  the  Mohave  Desert.  It 
attains  a  height  of  thirty  or  forty  feet,  and  the  trunk, 
often  two  or  three  feet  in  diameter,  supports  half  a 
dozen  irregular  branches,  each  tipped  with  a  cluster  ot 
spine-like  leaves.  The  flowers,  which  are  of  a  dingv 
white  color,  come  out  in  March  and  last  until  May, 
giving  off  a  disagreeable  odor.  The  fruit,  however, 
which  is  two  or  three  inches  long,  is  pulpy  and  agree 
able,  resembling  a  date  in  flavor. 

ARTHUR  J.  BURDICK,  in  The  Mystic  Mid-Region. 

208 


JULY  11. 


JULY  12. 


209 


JULY  13  AND  14. 

Throughout  the  coast  region,  except  in  the  extreme 
north,  this  Live  Oak  is  the  most  common  and  charac 
teristic  tree  of  the  Coast  Range  valleys  which  it  beau 
tifies  with  low  broad  heads  whose  rounded  outlines  are 
repeated  in  the  soft  curves  of  the  foothills.  Disposed 
in  open  groves  along  the  bases  of  low  hills,  fringing 
the  rich  lands  along  creeks  or  scattered  by  hundreds 
or  thousands  over  the  fertile  valley  floors,  the  eyes  of 
the  early  Spanish  explorers  dwelt  on  the  thick  foliage 
of  the  swelling  crowns  and  read  the  fertility  of  the' 
land  in  these  evergreen  oaks  which  the}'  called  Encina. 
The  chain  of  Franciscan  Missions  corresponded  closely 
to  the  general  range  of  the  Live  Oak  although  uniform 
ly  well  within  the  margin  of  its  geographical  limits 
both  eastward  and  northward.  The  vast  assemblage  of 
oaks  in  the  Santa  Clara  Valley  met  the  eyes  of  Portola, 
discoverer  of  San  Francisco  Bay,  in  1769,  and  a  few 
years  later,  Crespi,  in  the  narrative  of  the  expedition 
of  1772,  called  the  valley  the  "Plain  of  Oaks  of  the 
Port  of  San  Francisco."  Then  came  Vancouver,  Eng 
lishman  and  discoverer.  Although  he  was  the  first  to 
express  a  just  estimate  of  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco, 
which  he  declared  to  be  as  fine  as  any  port  in  the 
world,  nevertheless  it  is  his  felicitous  and  appreciative 
description  of  the  groves  of  oaks,  the  fertile  soil  (of 
which  they  were  a  sign),  and  the  equable  climate  thai- 
one  reads  between  his  lines  of  1792  the  prophecy  of 
California's  later  empire. 

W.  L.  JEPSON,  in  Silva  of  California. 

210 


JULY   13. 


JULY  14. 


JULY  15. 

Huge  live-oaks,  silvered  with  a  hoar  ^  of  lichen, 
stretched  their  boughs  in  fantastic  frenzies.  Gray  fringes 
of  moss  hung  from  them,  and  tangled  screens  of 
clematis  and  wild  grape  caught  the  sunlight  in  their 
flickering  meshes  or  lay  over  mounds  of  foliage  like 
a  torn  green  veil.  *  * 

For  nearly  two  miles  the  carriage  drive  wound  up 
ward  through  this  sylvan  solitude.  As  it  approached 
the  house  a  background  of  emerald  lawns  shone  through 
the  interlacing  branches,  and  brilliant  bits  of  flower 
beds  were  set  like  pieces  of  mosaic  between  gray 
trunks. 

GERALDINE   BONNER.   in    The   Pioneer. 


JULY  16. 

The  Yellow  Pine  is  the  most  abundant  and  widely 
distributed  tree  of  the  forests  of  California  and  is  par 
ticularly  characteristic  of  the  Sierra  Nevada,  where  it 
attains  its  finest  development.  The  largest  trees  most 
commonly  grow  along  the  ridges  and  it  is  the  ridges 
which  the  trails  ordinarily  follow.  Here  the  traveler 
may  journey  day  after  day,  over  needle-carpeted  or 
grassy  ground,  mostly  free  of  underbrush,  amidst  great 
clean  shafts  40  to  150  feet  high,  of  really  massive  pro 
portions  but  giving  a  sense  of  lightness  by  reason  of 
their  color,  symmetry,  and  great  height.  No  two 
trunks  in  detail  of  bark  are  modeled  exactly  alike,  for 
each  has  its  own  particular  finish  ;  so  it  is  that  the  eye 
never  wearies  of  the  fascination  of  the  Yellow  Pine 
but  travels  contentedly  from  trunk  to  trunk  and  wan 
ders  satisfyingly  up  and  down  their  splendid  columns— 
the  finest  of  any  pine. 

W.  L.  JEPSON,  in  Sik'u   <>f  California. 

212 


JULY  15. 


JULY  16 


JULY  17. 
MENDOCINO. 

A   vast  cathedral  by  the  western  sea, 
Whose  spires  God  set  in  majesty  on  high, 
Peak  after  peak  of  forests  to  the  sky, 
Blended  in  one  vast  roof  of  greenery. 
The  nave,  a  river  broadening  to  the  sea  ; 
The  aisles,  deep  canyons  of  eternal  build; 
The   transepts,   valleys    with   God's   splendor    filled ; 
The  shrines,  white  waterfalls  in  leaf-laced  drapery; 
The  choir  stands  westward  by  the  sounding-  shore; 
The  cliffs  like  beetling  pipes  set  high  in  air ; 
Roll  from  the  beach  the  thunders  crashing  there; 
The  high  wind-voices  chord  the  breakers'  roar; 
And  wondrous  harmonies  of  praise  and  prayer 
Swell  to  the  forest  altars  evermore. 

LII.I.IAX  H.  SHUEY,  in  Among  the  Redwoods. 


JULY  18. 

They  were  passing  an  orange-grove,  and  they  entered 
a  road  bordered  with  scarlet  geraniums  that  wound  for 
a  mile  through  eucalyptus  trees,  past  artificial  lakes 
where  mauve  "water-lilies  floated  in  the  sun,  and  boats 
languorously  invited  occupants.  Finally  they  came  upon 
a  smooth  sward  like  that  of  an  English  park,  embel 
lished  with  huge  date-palms,  luxuriant  magnolias,  and 
regal  banana-trees.  Then  they  passed  a  brook  tumbling 
in  artificial  cascades  between  banks  thick  with  mossy 
ferns,  and  bright  with  blossoms,  'ihe  children  led  their 
companion  beneath  fig  and  bay  trees  through  an  Italian 
garden;  all  of  this  splendid  luxury  of  verdure  had 
sprung  from  the  desert  as  the  result  of  a  fortune  pa 
tiently  spent  in  irrigation. 

MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER,  in  The  Giants. 

214 


JULY  17. 


JULY  18. 


JULY  19. 

Some  men  have  an  eye  for  trees  and  an  inborn  sym 
pathy  with  these  rooted  giants,  as  if  the  same  sap  ran 
in  their  own  veins.  To  them  trees  have  a  personality 
quite  as  animals  have,  and,  to  be  sure,  there  are  "char 
acters"  among  trees.  I  knew  a  solitary  yellow  pine 
which  towered  in  the  landscape,  the  last  of  its  race. 
Its  vast  columnal  trunk  seemed  to  loom  and  expand  as 
one  approached.  Always  there  was  distant  music  in 
the  boughs  above,  a  noble  strain  descending  from  the 
clouds.  Its  song  was  more  majestic  than  that  of  any 
other  tree,  and  fell  upon  the  listening  ear  with  the  far- 
off  cadence  of  the  surf,  but  sweeter  and  more  lyrical, 
as  if  it  might  proceed  from  some  celestial  harp.  Though 
there  was  not  a  breeze  stirring  below,  this  vast  tree 
hummed  its  mighty  song.  Apparently  its  branches  had 
penetrated  to  another  world  than  this,  some  sphere  oi 
increasing  melody. 

C.   H.  KIRKHAM.  in    In   the  Open. 
— .». — 

JULY  20. 

You  will  think  the  gentlemen  were  fine  dandies  in 
those  Mexican  days,  when  I  tell  you  that  they  often 
wore  crimson  velvet  knee  trousers  trimmed  with  gold 
lace,  embroidered  white  shirts,  bright  green  cloth  or 
velvet  jackets  with  rows  and  rows  of  silver  buttons, 
and  red  sashes  with  long  streaming  ends.  Their  wide- 
brimmed  sombreros  (hats)  were  trimmed  with  silver 
or  gold  braid  and  tassels.  *  *  *  Each  gentleman 
wore  a  large  Spanish  cloak  of  rich  velvet  or  embroid 
ered  cloth,  and  if  it  rained,  he  threw  over  _  his  fine 
clothes  a  serape,  or  square  woolen  blanket,  with  a  slit 
cut  in  the  middle  for  the  head. 

ELLA  M.  SEXTON,  in  Stones  of  California. 

216 


JULY  19. 


JULY  2li. 


217 


JULY  21. 

ON  THK  PLANTING  oi;  THE  TREES  AT  THE  PACIFIC  THEO 
LOGICAL  SEMINARY,  OAKLAND. 
And  what  shall  be  the  children's  tree, 

To  grow  while  we  are  sleeping? 
The  maple  sweet ;  the  manzanete ; 

The  gentle  willow  weeping; 
The  larch;  the  yew;   the  oak  so  true, 

Kind  mother  strong   and  tender; 
Or,  white  and  green,  in  gloss  and  sheen, 

Queen    Magnolia's    splendor? 
One  wan,  hot  noon,  His  path  was  strewn, 

Whose  love   did  all   love  quicken, 
With  leaves  of  palm  while  song  and  psalm 

Held  all  the  world  to  listen. 
For  His  dear  sake,  the  palm  we'll  take — 

Each   frond  shall  be  a  prayer 
That  He  will  guide,  whate'er  betide, 

Until   we   meet   Him  there. 

CHARLES  J.  WOODBURY. 

JULY  22. 

The  landscape,  glazed  with  heat,  seemed^  to  faint 
under  the  unwinking  glare  of  the  sun.  From  the 
parched  grass-land  and  the  thickets  of  chaparral,  pung 
ent  scents  arose— the  ardent  odors  that  the  woods  of 
foot-hill  California  exhale  in  the  hot,  breathless  qui 
escence  of  summer  afternoons.  *  *  * 

The  air  came  over  it  in  glassy  waves,  carrying  its 
dry,  aromatic  perfume  to  one's  nostrils.  On  its  burnt 
expanse  a  few  huge  live-oaks  rose  dark  and  dome-like, 
their  shadows,  black  and  irregular,  staining  the  ground 
beneath  them. 

GERALDINE  BONNER,  m   The  Pioneer 

218 


JULY  21. 


JULY  22. 


JULY  23. 

With  great  discomfort  and  considerable  difficulty 
they  threaded  this  miniature  forest,  starting  all  sorts  of 
wild  things  as  they  went  on.  Cotton-tail  rabbits  fled 
before  them.  Gophers  stuck  their  heads  out  of  the 
ground,  and  viewed  them  with  jewel-like  eyes,  then 
noiselessly  retreated  to  their  underground  preserves. 
Large  gray  ground  squirrels  sat  up  on  their  haunches, 
with  bushy  tails  curled  gracefully  around  them  and 
wee  forepaws  dropped  downward  as  if  in  mimic  cour 
tesy,  but  scampered  off  at  their  approach.  Flocks  of 
birds  arose  from  their  feeding  grounds,  and  lizard* 
rustled  through  the  dead  leaves. 

FLORA  HAINES  LOVGHEAI»,  in   The  Abandoned  Claim. 

JULY  24. 

THE  SENTINEL  TKEK. 
(CYPRESS    POINT.   CAI.II-OKXIA.) 
A  giant  sentinel,  alone  it  stands 

On   rocky  headland  where  the  breakers   roar. 
Parted  from  piny  woods  and  pebbled  shore, 
Holding  out  brandies  as  imploring  hands. 
Poor  lonely  tree,  where  never  bird  doth  make 
Its  nest, 'or  sing  at  morn  and  eve  to  thee, 
Nor  in  whose  shadow  wild  rose  calleth  bee 
To  come  on  gauzy  wing  for  love's  sweet  sake. 
Nature  cares  for  thee,  gives  thee  sunshine  gold. 
Handfuls  of  pearls  cast  from  the  crested  waves, 
For  thee  pink-throated  shells  soft  murmurs  hold, 
And  seaweed  vested  chorists  chant  in  caves. 
Whence  came  thee,  lone  one  of  an  alien  band, 
To  guard  an  outpost  of  this  sunset  land? 
('.RACE  Hir.BARD.  in  Forget-me-nots  from  California. 
no 


JULY  23. 


JULY  24. 


221 


JULY  25. 

IN  THE  MEXICAN   JUNGLE. 

The  jungle,  however,  rang  with  life.  Brilliant  birds 
Hew,  screaming  at  their  approach — noisy  parrots  and 
macaws ;  the  gaucamaya,  one  flush  of  red  and  gold ;  a 
king  vulture,  raven  black  save  for  his  scarlet  crest. 
From  the  safe  height  of  a  saber,  monkeys  showered 
vituperations  upon  them.  Once  an  iguana,  great 
chameleon  lizard,  rose  under  foot  and  dashed  for  the 
nearest  water ;  again  a  python  wound  its  slow  length 
across  the  path.  Vegetation  was  equally  gorgeous,  al 
ways  strange.  He  saw  plants  that  stung  more  bitterly 
than  insects ;  insects  barely  distinguishable  from  plants. 
Here  a  tree  bore  flowers  instead  of  leaves;  there  flow 
ers  grew  as  large  as  trees.  *  *  *  Birds,  beasts,  flow 
ers — all  were  strange,  all  were  wonderful. 

HERMAN  WHITAKER,  in  The  Planter. 

JULY  26. 

Sitting  in  the  white-paved  pergola  at  Montecito,  with 
overhead  a  leafy  shelter  of  pink-flowered  passifloras. 
looking  out  over  the  little  lake,  its  surface  dotted  with 
water-lilies,  its  banks  fringed  with  drooping  shrubs 
and  vines,  the  hum  of  the  bee  and  the  bird  in  the  air— 
I  looked  down  over  a  wonderful  collection  of  nearly 
200  rare  palms  and  listened  to  the  music  that  floated 
up  from  their  waving  branches  like  that  of  a  thous 
and  silken-stringed  eolian  harp ;  and  there  came  into 
my  mind  visions  of  a  people  that  shall  be  strong  with 
the  strength  of  great  hills,  calm  with  the  calm  of  a 
fair  sea,  united  as  are  at  last  the  palm  and  the  pine, 
mighty  with  the  presence  of  God. 

BELLE  SUMNER  ANGIER, 
in    The   Garden    Book   of   California. 

222 


JULY  25. 


JULY  26. 


223 


JULY  27. 

THE  GIANT  SEQUOIAS. 
O  lofty  giants  of  the  elder  prime! 
How  may  the  feeble  lips,  of  mortal,  rhyme 
A  measure  fitted  to  thy  statures  grand. 
As  like  a  gathering  of  gods  ye  stand 
And  raise  your  solemn  arms  up  to  the  skies, 
While  through  your  leaves  pour  Ocean's  symphonies 
What  Druid  lore  ye  know!    What  ancient  rites- 
Gray  guardians  of  ten  thousand  days  and  nights. 
Watching  the  stars  swim   round  their  sapphire  pole. 
The  ocean  surges  break  about  earth's  brimming  bowl. 
The  cyclone's  driving  swirl,  the  storm-tossed  seas, 
Hvmning  for  aye  their  myriad  litanies! 
*     #     *     * 

What  dawn  of  Life  saw  ye,  Grand  Prophets  old? 
What  pristine  years?     What  advents  manifold? 
When  first  the  glaciers  in  their  icy  throes 
Were   grinding   thy    repasts;     and     feeding     thee     witl 

snows  ? 

What  earthquake  shocks?    What  changes  of  the  sun  r 
While  ye  laughed  down  their  wrack  and  builded  on ! 
JOHN  WARD  STIMSON,  in  Wandering  Chords. 

JULY  28. 

High  above  on  the  western  cliff  a  giant  head  of  cac 
tus  reared  infernal  arms  and  luminous  bloom  Une 
immense  clump  threw  a  shadow  across  the  cliff  road 
where  it  leaves  the  river  plain  and  winds  along  the 
canyon  to  the  mesa  above  the  sea— the  road  over  wnict 
in  the  old  days  the  Mission  Indians  bore  hides  to  the 
ships  and  flung  them  from  the  cliffs  to  the  waiting 
boats  below. 

MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN,  in  For  the  Soul  of  Rafael. 


JULY  27. 


JULY  28. 


225 


JULY  29. 

Distinct  from  all  others,  the  sequoias  are  a  race 
apart.  The  big-tree,  and  the  redwood  of  the  Coast 
Range,  are  the  only  surviving  members  of  that  ancient 
family,  the  giants  of  the  fore-world.  Their  immense 
trunks  might  be  the  fluted  columns  of  some  noble  order 
of  architecture,  surviving  its  builders  like  the  marble 
temples  of  Greece — columns  three  hundred  feet  high 
and  thirty  feet  through  at  the  base.  Such  a  vast  nave, 
such  majestic  aisles,  such  sublime  spires,  only  the  for 
est  cathedrals  know.  Symmetrical  silver  firs,  giant  ce 
dars  and  spruce,  grow  side  by  side  with  sugar  pines 
of  vast  and  irregular  outline,  whose  huge  branches,  like 
outstretched  arms,  hold  aloft  the  splendid  cones— such 
is  the  ancient  wood. 

C.  H.  KIRKHAM,  in   In  the  Open. 


JULY  30. 

Said  one,  "This  city,  as  you  know, 
Though  young  in  years,  as  cities  go, 
Has  quite  a  history  to  repeat 
If  records  have  been  kept  complete. 
Oft  has  it  felt  the  earthquake  shock- 
That  made  the  strongest  building  rock. 
And  more  than  once  'gone  up'  in  smoke 
Till  scarce  a  building  sheltered  folk. 
The  citizens  can  point  to  spots 
Where  people  fashioned  hangman's  knots 
With  nimble  fingers,  to  supply 
Some  hardened  rogues  a  hempen  tie, 
Whom  Vigilantes  and  their  friends 
Saw  fit  to  drop  from  gable-ends." 
PALMER  Cox,  in  The  Brownies  Through  California. 


JULY  29. 


JULY  30. 


2?7 


JULY  31. 
ROSEMARY. 

Indian  summer  has  gone  with  its  beautiful  moon. 
And  all  the  sweet  roses  I  gathered  in  June 
Are  faded.     It  may  be  the  cloud-sylphs  of  Even 
Have  stolen  the  tints  of  those  roses  for  Heaven. 

0  bonnie  bright  blossom!  in  the  years  far  away. 
vSo  evanished  thy  bloom  on  an  evening  in  May. 
The  sunlight  now  sleeps  in  the  lap  of  the  west, 
And  the  star-beams  are  barring  its  chamber  of  resr. 
While  Twilight  is  weaving  her  blue-tinted  bowers 
To  mellow  the  landscape  where   slumber  the  flowers. 

1  would  fain  learn  the  music  that  won  thee  away. 
When  the  earth  was  the  beautiful  temple  of  May; 
For  our  fancies  were  measured  the  bright  summer  long 
To  the  carols  we  learned  from  the  lark's  morning  song. 
They  still  haunt   me — those   echoes   from    Child   land — 

but  now 

My  heart  beats  alone  to  their  musical  flow. 
Then  I  never  looked  up  to  the  portals  on  high, 
For  our  Heaven  was  here;  and  our  azure-stained  sky 
Was  the  violet  mead;  the  cloud-billows  of  snow 
Were  the  pale  nodding  lilies ;  the  roses  that  glow 
On  the  crown  of  the  hill,  gave  the  soft  blushing  hue; 
The  gold  was  the  crocus;  the  silver,  the  dew 
Which  met  as  it  fell,  the  glad  sunlight  of  smiles,  ^ 
And  wove  the  -gay  rainbow   of  Hope,  o'er  our  aisles. 
But   the   charm    of  the    spring-time    has   vanished   with 

thee; 

To  its  mystical  speech  I've  forgotten  the^key; 
Yet,  if  angels  and  flowers  are  closely  allied, 
I  may  trace  thy  lost  bloom  on  the  blushing  hillside; 
And  when  rose-buds  are  opening  their  petals  in  June. 
I'll   feel  thou  art  near  me  and  teaching  the  tune 
228 


JULY  31. 


Which   chanted   by   seraphim,    won   thee   away 
On    thai    blossoming  eve,    from   the   gardens  "of   May. 
MARY    V.    TINGLKY    LA  WHENCE. 

in    Poetry   of  the   Pacific. 

A   VOICE  (i\   THE   WIND. 

Aim  out  of  the   West   came  a   voice   o;i   the   wind: 
J  seek  for  the  truth  and  behold,  ye  shall  find! 
O  strive  for  the  right  and  behold,"  ye  shall  do 
All   things   that   the   Master   commandeth   of  you 
l<or  love  is  the  truth  ye  have  sought  for  so  long, 
And  love  is  the  right  that  ye  strove  for  through  wrony 
Love  !^  love  spheres  our  lives  with  a  halo  of  fire. 
Hut  God,  how  'tis  dimmed  by  each  selfish  desire! 
CHARLES  KEEI.ER.  in  Idyls  of  /•/  Dorado   (out  of  print). 


229 


AUGUST  1. 

THE  AGE  OF  THE  SEQUOIAS. 

Prof.  Jordan  estimates  that  the  oldest  of  the  se 
quoias  is  at  least  7000  years  old.  The  least  age  assigned 
to  it  is  5000  years.  It  was  a  giant  when  the  Hebrew 
Patriarchs  were  keeping  sheep.  It  was  a  sapling  when 
the  first  seeds  of  human  civilization  were  germinating 
on  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates  and  the  Nile.  It  had 
attained  its  full  growth  before  the  Apostles  went  forth 
to  spread  the  Christian  religion.  Tt  began  to  die  be 
fore  William  of  Normandy  won  the  battle  of  Hastings. 
It  has  been  dying  for  a  thousand  years.  And  unless 
some  accident  comes  to  it,  it  will  hardly  be  entirely 
dead  a  thousand  years  from  now.  It  has  seen  the 
birth,  growth  and  decay  of  all  the  generations  and 
tribes  and  nations  of  civilized  men.  It  will  see  the 
birth  and  decay  of  many  more  generations.  It  is  the 
oldest  living  thing  on  the  face  of  the  earth. 

G.  W.  BURTON,  in  Burton's  Book  on  California. 

AUGUST  2. 
Adown    the    land    great    rivers    glide 

With   lyric    odes   upon   their   lips, 
The   sheltered  bay   with   singing  tide 

Forever    woos    the    storm-tossed    ships — 
And   yet,    for   me    more   magic   teems 
Bv    California's    willowed    streams. 
*  #  *  *  * 

For    some    the    crowded   market   place, 
The   bustle   of  the   jammed  bazaars, 

The  fleeting  chance  in  fortune's  race 
That  ends  somewhere  amid  the  stars — 

Give  me  a   chance   to  gather   dreams 

By    California's    willowed    streams. 

CLARENCE  URMY,   in   Sunset   Magaginr. 

2:40 


A.U6UST    1. 


AUGUST  2. 


231 


AUGUST  3. 

But  what  the  land  lacks  in  trees  it  nearly  makes  up 
in  shrubs.  Three  varieties  of  sumac,  reaching  often  as 
high  as  fifteen  or  eighteen  feet,  and  spreading  as  man} 
wide,  stand  thick  upon  a  thousand  hill-sides  and  fill  with 
green  the  driest  and  stoniest  ravines.  Two  kinds  of  live 
oak  bushes,  two  varieties  of  lilac,  one  with  white,  the 
other  with  lavender  flo\M-rs,  the  madrono,  the  coffee- 
berry,  the  manzanita,  the  wild  mahogany,  the  choke-ber 
ry,  all  of  brightest  green,  with  adcnostoma  and  baccharis, 
two  dark-green  bushes,  looking  like  red  and  white  cedar, 
form  what  is  called  the  chaparral.  Three  varieties  of 
dwarf-willow  often  grow  along  the  water-courses,  and 
with  the  elder,  wild  grape,  rose  and  sweet-briar,  all  well 
huddled  together,  the  chinks  filled  with  nettles  and  the 
whole  tied  together  with  long,  trailing  blackberry  vines, 
often  form  an  interesting  subject  of  contemplation  for 
one  who  wants  to  get  on  the  other  side. 

T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  in  Southern  California. 

AUGUST  4. 

You  who  would  find  a  new  delight  in  the  wild  and 
waste  places  of  the  earth,  a  new  meaning  to  life,  and 
an  enlarged  sympathy  with  your  fellow  creatures, 
should  seek  them  out,  not  in  the  books,  but  in  their 
homes.  One  bird  learned  and  known  as  an  individual 
creature,  with  a  life  all  its  own,  is  worth  volumes  of 
reading.  Listen  to  their  call-notes ;  observe  their 
plumage  and  their  motions ;  seek  out  their  homes,  and 
note  their  devotion  to  their  young.  Then  will  the  lower 
animals  become  invested  with  a  new  dignity,  and  the 
homes  builded  not  with  hands  will  become  as  sacred 
as  the  dwelling-place  of  your  neighbor. 

CHARLES    KEELER    in    Bird    Notes    Afield. 

232 


AUGUST  3. 


AUGUST  4. 


233 


AUGUST  5. 

THE  NAVEL  ORANGE  250  YEARS  AGO. 
Most  Americans  know  an  orange  by  sight,  and  we  of 
California  count  it  a  blood  relation.  We  do  grow  the 
best  orange  in  the  world,  and  ship  thousands  of  loads 
of  it  in  a  year;  and  we  have  a  modest  notion  that  we 
invented  it,  and  that  we  "know  oranges."  But  the 
handsomest,  the  fullest  and  the  most  erudite  treatise 
on  oranges  ever  printed  does  not  derive  from  Cali 
fornia,  nor  yet  from  the  Only  Smart  Nation.  .  On  the 
contrary,  it  was  printed  in  Rome  in  the  year  1646.  . 
More  accurate  drawings  of  these  fruits  have  never 
been  printed;  and  the  illustrations  cover  not  only  the 
varieties  and  even  the  "freaks"  of  the  Golden  Apple, 
but  the  methods  of  planting,  budding,  wall-training 
and  housing  it.  Perhaps  the  point  likeliest  to  jar  our 
complacent  ignorance  is  the  fact  that  this  venerable 
work  describes  and  pictures  seedless  oranges,  and  even 
the  peculiar  "sport,"  now  an  established  variety,  which 
we  know  as  the  "Navel."  Two  hundred  and  fifty  seven 
years  ago  it  was  called  the  "Female,  or  Foetus-bearing 
orange;"  but  no  one  today  can  draw  a  better  picture, 
nor  a  more  unmistakable,  of  a  navel  orange. 

CHARLES    F.    LUMMIS,    in    Out    West. 

AUGUST  6. 

THE  SIERRA  NEVADAS. 

Serene  and  satisfied!     Supreme!     As  lone 
As  God,  they  loom  like  God's  archangels  churl  d ; 
They  look  as  cold  as  kings  upon  a  throne; 

A  line  of  battle-tents  in  everlasting  snow. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 


231 


AUGUST  6. 


235 


AUGUST  7. 
To  THE  VIOLET. 
Welcome   little   violet, 
I   gladly  welcome  thee ; 
Peeping   with   thy   dewy   eyes 
So  shyly  out  at  me. 
Modest   little   violet 
Hide   not    thy    face    away. 
I  love  thee  and  thy  sweet  perfume, 
Thy   purple-hued   array. 
Sweetest    little    violet, 
I'll  pluck  thee  gently  dear, 
I'll  nurture  thee  so  tenderly- 
Then  have  of  me  no  fear. 
Sweetest  little  violet, 
Delight   of  every   heart ; 
No  flow'ret   rare  is  like  thee    fair. 
None  praised   as  thou  art. 

BERTHA    HIRSCH   RARUCH. 

AUGUST  8. 

August  is  a  word  of  dire  import  in  the  bird-lover's 
calendar.  It  means  virtually  the  end  of  the  bird  sea 
son.  The  wooing  and  nesting  and  rearing  the  family 
are  all  over,  and  now  looms  before  the  feathered  popu 
lation  that  annual  trouble — the  change  of  dress,  the  only 
time  in  his  life — happy  soul ! — that  he.  has  to  concern 
himself  about  clothes. 

In  the  business  of  getting  a  new  suit  he  has  more 
trouble  than  a  fine  lady,  for  he  has  to  shake  off  the 
old  garments,  while  getting  the  new,  bit  by  bit,  here  a 
feather  and  there  a  feather,  today  a  new  wing-quill ; 
tomorrow  a  new  plume  on  his  dainty  breast. 

OLTVE  THORNE  MII.LKK. 

236 


A  I:GUST  7. 


AUGUST  8. 


237 


Arr.rsT  9. 

CHILDREN  JN  A  CALIFORNIA  GARDEN. 
Legendrv  and  literature  may  be  taught  to  your  child 
ren  in  the  garden.  Tell  them  the  pretty  story  of  how 
Cupid's  mother  gave  the  rose  its  thorns;  the  tale  of 
the  sensitive  plant;  and  point  out  to  them  the  equip 
ment  of  the  cacti  for  their  strange,  hard  life  on  the 
desert ;  the  lovely  human  faces  filled  with  the  sweet 
ness  of  remembrance  that  we  find  in  the  pansy  bed. 
Show  them  the  delight  of  the  swift-flying  humming 
bird  in  the  red  and  yellow  blossoms  of  the  garden, 
and  the  sagacity  of  the  oriole  in  building  his  nest  near 
the  lantana  bush— so  attractive  to  .  the  insects  upon 
which  the  scamp  feeds. 

BELLE  SUMNER  ANGIER, 
in   The  Garden  Book  of  California. 

AUGUST  10. 
ON  JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

Sierra's    poet!    high   and   pure    thy    muse 
Enthroned  doth  sit  amongst  the  stars  and  snows ; 
And  from  thy  harp  olympian  music  flows, 
Of    glacier    heights    and    gleaming    mountain    dews. 
Of  western   sea  and  burning  sunset  hues. 
And  we  who  look  up — who  on   the  plain   repose, 
And  catch  faint  glimpses  of  the  mount  that  throws 

Athwart    thy    poet-sight    diviner   views. 
And   not   alone    from    starry   shrine    is    strung 
Thy  lyre,  but  tuned  to  gentler  lay, 
lhat  sings  of  children,  motherhood  and  home, 
And   lifts    our    hearts    and   lives    to    sweeter   day. 
Oh,  bard  of   Nature's   heart!    thy  name   will   rest 

Immortal    in    thy    land— our    Golden    West! 

DORA    Ci'RETON    in    Sunset   Magazine. 


AUGUST  9. 


AUGUST  10. 


23<) 


AUGUST  11. 
THE  PESSIMIST. 

The  pessimist  leads  us  into  a  land  of  desolation. 
He  makes  for  the  sight  blossoms  of  ugliness;  for  the 
smell  repellant  odors ;  for  the  taste  bitterness  and  gall ; 
for  the  hearing  harsh  discord,  and  death  for  the  touch 
that  is  the  only  relief  from  a  desert  whose  scrawny 
life  lives  but  to  distress  us. 

ABBOTT  KINNEY,  in  Tasks  By  Twilighl. 

The  leaves  of  the  wild  gourd,  lying  in  great  star 
shaped  patches  on  the  ground,  drooped  on  their  stems, 
and  the  spikes  of  dusty  white  sage  by  the  road  hung 
\irnp  at  the  ends,  and  filled  the  air  with  their  wilted 
fragrance.  The  sea-breeze  did  not  come  up,  and  in  its 
stead  gusts  of  hot  wind  from  the  north  swept  through 
the  valley  as  if  from  the  door  of  a  furnace. 
MARGARET  COLLIER  GRAHAM,  in  Stories  of  the  Foothills 

AUGUST  12. 

ENTICEMENT. 

Then  haste,  sweet  April  Dear. 
Thou  alone  canst  find  her. 

Her  hair  so  soft,  so  silken  soft  thy  breezes  blow 
And  thou  shalt  laugh  with  her.  give  her  thy  first  sweet 

kiss. 

On  her  white  blossom's  snow  .  .  . 
Why,  why,  dost  thou  not  fly,  on  clouds  of  love, 
'Tis  ihou  alone  canst  find  her. 
Thou  fain  wouldst  ask  doth  she  love  thee. 
Thou  knowest  well 
She   loves   thee, 

April  Dear. 

ADRIADNE  HOLMES  EDWARDS. 

240 


AUGUST  11. 


AUGUST  12. 


241 


AUGUST  13. 

Our  pitcher-plant  is  one  of  the  most  wonderful  and 
interesting  of  all  the  forms  that  grow,  linking,  as  it 
were,  the  vegetable  world  with  the  animal,  by  its  un 
natural  carnivorous  habits.  *  *  * 

No  ogre  in  his  castle  has  ever  gone  to  work  more 
deliberately  or  fiendishly  to  entrap  his  victims  while 
offering  them  hospitality,  than  does  this  plant-ogre. 
Attracted  by  the  bizarre  yellowish  hoods  of  the  tall, 
nodding  flowers,  the  foolish  insect  alights  upon  the 
former  and  commences  his  exploration  of  the  fascinat 
ing  region.  *  *  *  But  at  last,  when  he  has  partaken 
to  satiety  and  would  fain  depart,  he  turns  to  retrace 
his  steps.  In  the  dazzlement  of  the  transparent  win 
dows  of  the  dome  above,  he  loses  sight  of  the  dark 
ened  door  in  the  floor  by  which  he  entered  and  flies 
forcibly  upward,  bumping  his  head  in  his  eagerness  to 
escape.  He  is  stunned  by  the  blow  and  plunges  down 
ward  into  the  tube  below.  Here  he  struggles  to  rise, 
but  countless  downward-pointing,  bristly  hairs  urge 
him  to  his  fate. 

MARY   ELIZABETH    PARSONS. 
in    The    Wild  Flowers  of  California. 

AUGUST  14. 

Sausalito  is  noted  for  its  abundance  of  flowers.  These 
not  only  grow  in  thick  profusion  in  the  quaint  hillside 
gardens,  but  are  planted  beside  the  roadways,  cover 
ing  many  an  erstwhile  bare  and  unsightly  bank  ^with 
trailing  vines,  gay  nasturtiums  and  bright  geraniums. 
There  is  something  in  the  spirit  of  this  hillside  garden 
ing,  this  planting  of  sweet  blossoms  for  the  public  at 
large,  that  is  very  appealing. 

BINGHAM,  in  In  Tamal  Land. 


242 


AUGUST  13. 


AUGUST  14. 


243 


AUGUST  15. 
A  GROUP  OF  CACTI. 

(IN   CALIKORNIA.) 

Flower  of  the  desert,  type  mysterious,  strange, 

Like  bird  or  monster  on  some  sculptured  tomb 

In  Egypt's  curious  fashion  wrought,  what  change 

Or  odd  similitude  of  fate,  what  range 

Of  cycling  centuries  from  out  the  gloom 

Of  dusty  ages  has  evolved  thy  bloom? 

In  the  bleak  desert  of  an  alien  zone, 

Child  of  the  past,  why  dwellest  thou  alone? 

Grotesque,   incongruous,   amid   the   flowers ; 

Unlovely  and  unloved,  standing  aside, 

Like  to  some  rugged  spirit  sheathed  in  pride; 

Unsmiling  to  the  sun,  untouched  by  showers— 

The  dew  falls — every  bud  has  drunk  its  fill : 

Bloom  of  the  desert,  thou  art  arid  still ! 

MARY    E.    MAN  NIX. 

AUGUST  16. 

In  late  spring  and  early  summer  upon  the  fading 
grasslands  and  on  the  dry  sunny  slopes  of  the  hills, 
the  Mariposa  tulips  set  their  long-stemmed  chalices  of 
delicate  color.  Bulbous  plants  of  the  lily  family,  they 
are  frequently  called  Mariposa  lilies,  but  as  a  matter  of 
fact  their  relationship  is  very  near  to  the  true  tulips 
of  the  Old  World,  and  like  the  latter,  they  have  been 
extensively  introduced  into  cultivation  both  in  this 
country  and  abroad. 

The 'petals  are  often  conspicuously  marked  with  lines 
and  dots  and  eye-like  spots  in  a  manner  that  suggests 
the  gay  wings  of  a  butterfly,  whence  the  term,  "Mari 
posa,"  which  is  the  Spanish  word  for  that  insect. 

ELIZABETH  H.  SAUNDKRS,  in  California  Wild  Flowers. 

244 


AUGUST  15. 


AUGUST  16. 


Aiv.ufcT   17: 

COPA  DE  ORO. 

(CALIFORNIA  1'OFPY.  ) 

Thy  satin  vesture  richer  is  than  looms 
Of  Orient  weave  for  raiment  of  her  kings, 
Not  dyes  of  olden  Tyre,  not  precious  things 
Regathered  from  the  long  forgotten  tombs 
Of  buried  empires,   not  the   iris   plumes 
That  wave   upon  the  tropics'  myriad  wings, 
Not  all  proud  Sheba's  queenly  offerings, 
Could   match   the   golden   marvel   of   thy  blooms, 
For  thou  art  nurtured  from  the  treasure-veins 
Of  this   fair  land;   thy  golden   rootlets   sup 
Her  sands  of  gold— of  gold  thy  petals  spun, 
Her  golden  glory,  thou!  of  hills  and  plains, 
Lifting,  exultant,  every  kingly  cup 
Brimmed    with    the    golden    vintage    of    the    sun. 
INA  1).  Cooi.BRiTH,  in  Soiifjs  from  the  Golden  Gate. 

AUGUST  18. 

The  Golden  Eagle  is  California's  noblest  bird  of 
prey.  He  is  more  than  a  match  for  any  animal  of  his 
own  size.  Not  a  beast  of  the  field  or  a  fowl  of  the  air 
can  dispossess  him;  he  stands  intrepid  before  every 
earthly  power  except  the  hand  of  man.  He  is  shy  and 
wary  at  all  times,  clean  and  handsome,  swift  in  flight 
and  strong  in  body.  An  experience  gained  in  the  fierc 
est  of  schools  makes  the  Eagle  as  formidable  as  any 
creature  of  the  wild.  He  is  a  valuable  inhabitant  of 
any  cattle  range  or  farming  community.  His  food 
consists  almost  entirely  of  the  ground  squirrels  that 
are  so  abundant  through  the  California  hills  and  cause 
such  damage  to  the  grain  fields. 

WILLIAM   L.   FINI.KV,  in   Feathered   Foragers. 

246 


AUGUST  17. 


AUGUST  18 


247 


AUGUST  19. 
THE  POPPY'S  CHJMKS. 
With  all  this  youth  to  cheer  bis  eyes 

No  man  is  ever  old, 
With  all  this  wealth  to  fill  his  purse 
No  one  need  lack  for  gold. 

0  rare  Ben  Jonson.  you  should  see 
The  draught  that  T  may  sup : 

How  sweet  the  drink,  her  kiss   within. 

The  poppy's  golden  cup. 
My  lowly  queen,  I  bow  to  thee 

And  worship  with  my  soul : 

1  hope  to  drink  her  love  from  out 

The   poppy's   golden   bowl. 
Look  up,   my   sweet,   and  catch   my   words, 

A  secret  1  would  tell : 
1   think  I  hear  her  "Yes"  ring  from 

The  poppy's  golden  bell. 
CHARLES  MCKNIGHT  SAIN,  in  Sunset.  August,  1908. 

AUGUST  20. 

Flowering  vines  overhung,  climbed  and  clung  about 
the  balcony  pillars  and  balustrades.  Roses  drooped  in 
heavy-headed  cascades  from  second-story  railings;  the 
wide  purple  flowers  of  the  clematis  climbed  aloft.  On 
one  wall  a  heliotrope  broke  in  lavender  foam  and  the 
creamy  froth  of  the  Banksia  rose  dabbled  railings  and 
pillars  and  dripped  over  on  to  the  ground.  It  was  a 
big,  cool,  friendly  looking  house  with  a  front  door  that 
in  Bummer  was  always  open,  giving  the  approaching 
visitor  a  hospitable  glimpse  of  an  airy,  unencumbered 
hall. 

GERALDINE  BONNER.  in    The  Pioneer. 

248 


AUGUST  19. 


AUGUST  20. 


249 


AUGUST  21. 

A.   DREAM   OF   POPPIES. 

Brown  hills  long  parched,  long  lifting  to  the  blue 
Of  summer's  brilliant  sky  but  russet  hue 

Of  sere  grass  shivering  in  the  trade-winds  sweep 
Soon,  with  light  footfalls,  from  their  tranced  slee 
The  first  rains  bid  the  poppies  rise  anew, 
And  trills  the  lark  exultant  summons,  too. 
How  swift  at  Fancy's  beck  those  gay  crowds  leap 
To  glowing  life !    The  eager  green  leaves  creep 

For  welcome  first;  then  hooded  buds,  pale  gold, 
Each  tender  shower  and  sun-kiss  help  unfold 
Till  smiling  hosts  crowd  all  the  fields,  and  still 
A  yellow  sea  of  poppies  breasts  each  hill 

And  breaks  in  joyous  floods  as  children  hold 
Glad  hands  the  lavish  cups  as  gladly  fill! 

KIJ.A  M.  SEXTON,  in  The  Golden  Poppy. 

AUGUST  22. 
CALIFORNIA. 

Her   poppies   fling  a  cloth  of  gold 

O'er  California's  hills    - 
Fit  emblem  of  the  wealth  untold 
That    hill    and    dale    and   plain    unfold.    . 

Her  fame  the  whole  world  fills. 

EUZA  D.  KEITH. 


How  can  one  convey  meaning  to  another  in  a  lang 
uage  which  that  other  does  not  understand?  I  can 
only  tell  you  the  charm  of  the  desert,  when  you,  too, 
have  learned  to  love  it.  And  then  there  will  be  no 
need  for  me  to  speak. 

IDAH  MEACHAM  STROBRIDGE,  in  Miner's  Mirage  Land. 

260 


AUGUST  21 


AUGUST  22. 


2f»l 


AUGUST  23. 

THE  P^AN  OF  THE   POPPIES 
The  mountains  sway  with  flame 
Where  the  frail  glories  tremble — 

Fair  fallen  stars  of  fire ! 
The  valleys  green  acclaim 
The  legions  that  assemble 
Tn  royal  robe  and  tire. 

With   timbrel,   shawm   and   choir. 
*     *     *     * 

Afar  in  darker  lands 

T  feel  their  kisses  burning 
As  sweet,  uncertain  lips. 
As  faint,  unhindered  hands 
Are  felt  by  exiles  yearning 
On  shores  when  tears  eclipse 
The  wan  and  westering  ships. 
HERMAN  SCHEFFAUER,  in  Looms  of  Lif 

AUGUST  24. 

PEACE. 
Xo  hand  have   1   on   rudder  laid ; 

All  my  oars  lie  idly  by; 
All  my  sheets  are  steadfast  made. 

For  Love  now  guides  me  silently. 
His  are  the  waves  and  flowing  tide; 

He  is  my  bark  and  chart  and  hand  ; 
He  is  companion  at  my  side ; 

His  the  coming  and  departed  land. 
Somewhere,  1  know,   I  port  shall   win ; 

Somewhen    I    know,    dear    friends,    I'll    sec ; 
Love.  "The  I  Am"  is  lord  within  ! 

Daily  he  brings  mine  own  to  me. 
HENRY  HARRISON  BROWN,  in   Now,  March, 


AUGUST  23. 


AUGUST  24. 


263 


AUGUST  25. 

IN  THE  SEASON  OF  POPPIES. 
From  the  shoulders  of  Dawn  the  night  shadow  slipped, 

As  the  shy,  saintly  Moon  evaded  her  tryst 
With  the  roystering  Sun,  who  eagerly  sipped 

From  the  valley's  green  cup  the  golden-white  mist. 
Day  flashed  like  a  smile  from  Dawn's  rosy  mouth, 

With  a  passion  of  birds  and  fragrant  appeals, 
And  the  warm  winds  up  from  the  sleepy  South 

Sluiced  the  red,  scented  gold  of  our  poppy  helds. 

H. \KI.EY  R.  WII.KY,  in  Overland  Monthly,  Sept.,  1908. 

AUGUST  26. 

WHEN  THE  POPPY  GOES  TO  SLEEP. 
Now  the  sandman  comes  a-calling, 

And  those  eyes  can  scarcely  peep  : 
It   is  little  children's  bedtime 

When  the  poppy  goes  to  sleep. 
In  the  west  the  sun  is  sinking, 

And  the  chickens  go  to  roost : 
And  the  poppy  folds  its  petals 
That  the  beaming  sun  had  loosed. 
*     *     *     * 

And  the  poppy  like  the  Arab, 

Silent  in  the  close  of  day, 
Fearful  of  the  coming  darkness. 

Folds  its  tent  and  steals  away. 
Hear  the  sandman's  final  warning 

On  the  land  and  on  the  deep, 
Saying,  "Good  night,  good  night,  good  night," 

When   the  poppy  goes  to  sleep. 

CHARLES  MCKNIGHT  SAIN, 

in   The  Call  of  the  Muse. 

254 


AUGUST  25. 


AUGUST  26. 


255 


AUGUST  27. 

THE   SIERRA   SNOW- PLANT 
Thou  growest  in  eternal  snow? 

As  flower  never  grew; 
The  sun  upon  thy  beauty  throws 

No  kiss — the  dawn  no  dew. 
Thou  knowest  not  the  love-warm  marl 

Of  Earth,  but  dead  and  white 
The  wastes  wherein  thy  roots  ensnarl 

Ere  thou  art  freed  in  light. 
Where  blighted  dawns,  with  twilight   blent, 

Die  pale,  thou  liftest  strong, 
A  tongue  of  crimson,  eloquent 

With  one  unceasing  song. 
*     *     *     * 

O  Life  in  vasts  of  death!     O  Flame 

That  thrills  the   stark   expanse; 
Let   Love  and  Longing  be  thy  name ! 

Love  and   Renunciance. 

HERMAN  SCHEFFAUER,  in  Looms  of  Life. 


AUGUST  28. 

IN  A  CALIFORNIA  GARDEN. 
Thro'  the  green  cloister,  folding  us  within. 
The  leaves  are  audible — our  ear  to  win  ; 
Iney  whisper  of  the  realm  of  old  Romance. 
Of  sunny  Spain,  and  of  chivalric  France  ; 
And  poor  Ramona's  love  and  her  despair, 
Thrill,  like  Aeolian  harp,  the  twilight  air- 
So  the  dear  garden  claims  its  mystic  due. 
Linking  the  legends  of  the  Old  and  New. 
FRANCES  MARGARET  MILNE, 
in  The  Grizzly  Bear  Magazine,  June,  1909. 

256 


AUGUST  27. 


AUGUST  28. 


257 


AUGUST  29. 

The  evening  primrose  covers  the  lower  slopes  with 
long  sheets  of  brightest  yellow,  and  from  the  hills 
above,  the  rock-rose  adds  its  golden  bloom  to  that  of 
the  sorrel  and  the  wild  alfalfa,  until  the  hills  almost 
outshine  the  bright  light  from  the  slopes  and  plains. 
And  through  all  this  nods  a  tulip  of  delicate  lavender; 
vetches,  lupins  ana  all  the  members  of  the  wild-pea 
family  are  pushing  and  winding  their  way  everywhere 
in  every  shade  of  crimson,  purple  and  white.  New 
bell-flowers  of  white  and  blue  and  indigo  rise  above 
the  first,  which  served  merely  as  ushers  to  the  dis 
play,  and  whole  acres  ablaze  with  the  orange  of  the 
poppv  are  fast  turning  with  the  indigo  of  the  larkspur. 
The  mimulus  alone  is  almost  enough  to  color  the  hills. 
T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  in  Southern  California. 

AUGUST  30. 
THE  MARIPOSA  LILY. 
Insect  or  blossom?     Fragile,  fairy  thing, 
Poised  upon  slender  tip,  and  quivering 
To  flight !  a  flower  of  the  fields  of  air ; 
A  jeweled  moth ;  a  butterfly,  with  rare 
And  tender  tints  upon  his  downy  wings, 
A  moment  resting  in  our  happy  sight ; 
A  flower  held  captive  by  a  thread  so  slight 
Its  petal-wings  of  broidered   gossamer 
Are.  light  as  the  wind,  with  every  wind  astir, 
Wafting  sweet  odor,  faint  and  exquisite. 
O  dainty  nursling  of  the  field  and  sky. 
What  fairer  thing  looks  up  to  heaven's  blue 
And  drinks  the  noontide  sun.  the  dawning's  dew? 
Thou  winged  bloom !  thou  blossom-butterfly ! 

INA  D.  COOLBRITH,  in  Songs  from  the  Golden  Gate. 

258 


AUGUST  29. 


AUGUST  30. 


AUGUST  31. 

CALIFORNIA  PHILOSOPHY. 
You    kin    talk    about   yer    eastern    states,    their    stiddy 

growth  'nd  size, 

'Nd   brag   about   yer   cities,   with   their   business   enter 
prise  ; 
You  kin  blow  about  tall  buildin's   runnin'  clean  up  to 

the  clouds, 
'Nd  gas  about  yer  graded  streets  'nd  chirp  about  yer 

crowds ; 
But    how    about    yer    "twisters"    'nd    the    cyclones    you 

have  there, 
That's    runnin'    'round    uncorralled    'nd    a-gittin'    on    a 

tear, 
'Nd   a-mixin'   towns   'nd   counties   up   at    sich   a   tarnal 

rate 
A  man  can't  be  dead  sartin  that  he's  in  his  native  state. 

You  needn't  talk  to  me  about  yer  "enterprise"  'nd  "go," 
Per    how    about   them    river    floods    us    folks    hear    tell 

'  of  so, 
Where  a  feller  goes  to  bed  at  night  with  nary  thought 

o'  fear, 
'Nd    discovers    in    the    mornin'    that    he's    changed    his 

hemisphere ; 
'Nd    where   grasshoppers    eat    the    crops     nd    all    about 

the  place, 
But  leave  that  gilt-edged  mortgage  there  ter  stare  you 

in  the  face. 
If   that   is   where   you   want   ter   live   it's   where   you  d 

orter  be, 

But  I  reckon  ol'  Cal'forny's  good  'nough  fer  me. 
I    sort   o'   low   the   climate  thar   is    somewhat   diff'runt 

too,  ,. 

Accordin'    to    the    weather    prophet's    watchful    pint    o 

view. 

260 


AUGUST  31. 


261 


In  course,  if  ten  foot  snowbanks  don't  bother  you  at  all 
Er  slosh  'nd  mud  'nd  drizzlin'  rain,  combined  with  a 

snowfall, 
It's  just  the  most  delightful  spot  this  side  o'  heaven's 

dome — 

But  I  kind  o'  sorter  reckon  that  I  couldn't  call  it  home. 
When  you  talk  about  that  climate,  it's  all  tomfoolery, 
Fer  sunny  ol'  Cal'forny's  good  enough  fer  me. 

Oh,  you  live  away  back  east,  you  don't  know  what  you 

miss 
By   stayin'   in   that   measly  clime,   without   the   joy   an' 

bliss 
Of  knowin'  what  the  weather  is  from  one  day  to  the 

next; 
It's  "mebby  this,"  "I  hope  it's  that,"  er  some  such  like 

pretext. 

Come  out  to  Californy'  whar  the  sky  is  allers  bright, 
'Nd  where  the  sun  shines  all  the  while,  with  skeerce 

a  cloud  in  sight; 
You'd  never  pine  fer  eastern  climes — ther's  no  denyin' 

that— 
Fer  when   you  want   a   heaven   on   earth,   Los   Angeles 

stands  pat. 

E.  A.  BRININSTOOL. 


CALIFORNIA. 

In  all  methinks  I  see  the  counterpart 
Of  Italy,  without  her  dower  of  art 
We  have  the  lordly  Alps,  the  fir-fringed  hills, 
Ine  green  and  golden  valleys  veined  with  rills, 
A  dead  Vesuvius  with  its  smouldering  fire, 
A  tawny  Tiber  sweeping  to  the  sea. 
Our  seasons  have  the  same  superb  attire, 

The  same  redundant  wealth  of  flower  and  tree 
Upon  our  peaks  the  same  imperial  dyes, 
And  day  by  day,  serenely  over  all,' 
The  same  successive  months  of  smiling  skies. 

Conceive  a  cross,  a  tower,  a  convent  wall 
A  broken  column  and  a  fallen  fane, 
A  chain  of  crumbling  arches  down  the  plain, 

A  group  of  brown-faced  children  by  a  stream 
A  scarlet-skirted  maiden   standing  near, 
A  monk,  a  beggar,  and  a  muleteer, 

And  lo!  it  is  no  longer  now  a  dream. 
These  are  the  Alps,  and  there  the  Apennines; 
The  fertile  plains  of  Lombardy  between- 
Beyond  Val  d'Arno  with  its  flocks  and  vines, 
These  granite  crags  are  gray  monastic  shrines 
Perched  on  the  cliffs  like  old  dismantled  forts ; 

ar  to  seawai~d  can  be  dimly  seen 
The  marble  splendor  of  Venetian  courts; 
While  one  can  all  but  hear  the  mournful  rhythmic  beat 
Of  white-lipped  waves  along  the  sea-paved  street 

O  childless  mother  of  dead  empires,  we, 
The  latest  born  of  all  the  western  lands, 
In  fancied  kinship  stretch  our  infant  hands 

Across  the  intervening  seas  to  thee. 
Thine  the  immortal  twilight,  ours  the  dawn, 
Yet  we  shall  have  our  names  to  canonize, 
Our  past  to  haunt  us  with  its  solemn  eyes, 
Our  ruins,  when  this  restless  age  is  gone. 

263    Lucius  HARWOOD  FOOTE. 


SEPTEMBER  1. 

THE  SCARF  OF  IRIS. 

***** 

Something     magical     is     near     me — hidden,     breathing 
everywhere, 

Shaken  out  in  mystic  odors,  caught  unseen  in  the  mid 
air. 

Life  is  waking,  palpitating;  souls  of  flowers  are  draw 
ing  nigh; 

Flitting   birds    with    fluted    warble    weave   between    the 
earth  and  sky; 

And  a  soft  excitement  welling  from  the  inmost  heart 
of  things 

Such   a   sense   of   exaltation,    such    a    call    to    rapture 
brings, 

That  my  heart— all  tremulous   with  a   virgin   wonder 
ment — 

Waits  and  yearns  and  sings  in  carols  of  the  rain  and 
sunshine   blent, 

Knowing  more  will  be  revealed  with  the  dawning  every 
day— 

For   the    fairy   scarf   of    Iris    falls   across   the   common 
way. 

RUBY  ARCHER. 

SEPTEMBER  2. 

To  the  left  as  you  rode  you  saw,  far  on  the  horizon, 
rising  to  the  height  of  your  eye,  the  mountains  of  the 
Channel  Islands.  Then  the  deep  sapphire  of  the  Pa 
cific,  fringed  with  the  soft,  unchanging  white  of  the 
surf  and  the  yellow  of  the  shore.  Then  the  town  like 
a  little  map,  and  the  lush  greens  of  the  wide  meadows, 
the  fruit-groves,  the  lesser  ranges — all  vivid,  fertile, 
brilliant,  and  pulsating  with  vitality. 

STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,  in   The  Mountains. 

264 


SEPTEMBER  1. 


SEPTEMBER  2. 


265 


SEPTEMBER  3. 

Never  was  garden  more  unintentionally  started,  and 
never  did  one  prove  greater  source  of  pleasure.  *  *  *  One 
day,  about  Christmas  time,  my  little  nephew  brought 
me  two  small  twigs  of  honeysuckle — not  slips  or 
shoots,  and  I  stuck  them  in  the  ground  by  the  front 
porch.  *  *  *  When  it  was  just  eighteen  months  old  hon 
eysuckle  vines  were  twining  tenderly  about  the  corner 
pillars  of  the  porch,  drawing  their  network  across  to  the 
other  support,  and  covered  with  bunches  of  white, 
creamy  tubes,  the  air  heavy  with  their  perfume.  *  *  * 
The  climbing  rose  had  reached  the  lattice  work,  and  its 
yellowish  flowers  formed  a  most  effective  contrast  to 
the  sky-blue  of  the  sollya  blossoms,  trained  up  on  the 
other  side  of  the  porch.  The  beds  were  edged  vari 
ously  with  dark  blue  violets  and  pink  daisies,  above 
which  bloomed  salvias,  euphorbias,  lantanas,  tube 
roses,  forget-me-nots,  carnations,  white  lilies,  Japan 
lilies,  iris,  primroses,  ranunculus,  lilies-of-the-valley, 
pansies,  anemones,  dahlias,  and  roses — white,  red, 
pink,  yellow,  crimson,  cream— in  the  wildest  profu 
sion. 

JOSEPHINE  CLIFFORD  MCCRACKIN,  in  Another  Juanita. 

SEPTEMBER  4. 

AFTERWARD. 

A  dying  moon  fell  down  the  sky, 

As  one  looked  out  to  see 
The  place  where  once  her  soul  endured 

Its  lengthehed   Calvary. 
Of  all  the  mem'ries  gathered  there — 

Their  faces  wan  with  tears — 
One  only  smiled — a  baby's  smile — 
To  rectify  the  years. 

DOROTHEA  L.  MOORE. 

266 


SEPTEMBER  3. 


SEPTEMBER  4. 


267 


SEPTEMBER  5. 

The  harvesting  of  hops  is  the  conjunction  of  the 
rude  essentials  of  farm  life  with  the  highest  effect  in 
art.  What  artist  but  would  note  enthusiastically  the 
inimitable  pose  of  that  young  girl  tip-toeing  to  bring 
down  the  tuft  of  creamy  blossoms  overhead ;  or  tne 
modest  nudity  of  the  wee  bronze  savage  capering  about 
a  stolid  squaw  in  a  red  sprigged  muslin?  Indeed,  there 
is  indescribable  piquancy  in  this  unconscious  grouping 
of  the  pickers  and  their  freedom  from  restraint.  For 
each  artistic  bit — a  laughing  face  in  an  aureole  of  am 
ber  clusters,  a  statuesque  chin  and  throat,  Indians  in 
grotesquely  picturesque  raiment,  and  the  yellow  vis 
ages  of  the  Chinese — the  vines  make  an  idyllic  fram 
ing  ^with  a  pinking  summer  sun  in  the  background 
lending  a  shimmering  transparency  to  leaf  and  flower. 

NINETTA  EAMES 

in  Hop-Picking  Time,  The  Cosmopolitan,  Novem 
ber,  1893. 

SEPTEMBER  6. 

Golf  has  spread  with  great  rapidity  throughout  Cali 
fornia,  and  though  many  people  may  have  taken  it  up 
from  an  idea  that  it  is  the  correct  thing,  the  game  will 
always  be  popular,  especially  in  the  Southern  part  of 
the  State,  where  more  people  of  leisure  live  than  in 
the  Northern  part,  and  where  the  large  infusion  of 
British  and  Eastern  residents  tends  to  foster  a  love 
of  out-door  sports.  Golf  may  be  played  in  any  part 
of  Central  or  Southern  California  on  any  day  in  the 
year  when  a  gale  is  not  blowing  or  heavy  rain  falling. 
Occasionally  the  strong  winds  render  golfing  somewhat 
arduous,  but  the  enthusiast  can  play  on  about  three 
hundred  and  fifty  days  in  the  year. 

ARTHUR   INKERSEEY,   in   Overland  Monthly. 

268 


SEPTEMBER  5. 


SEPTEMBER  6. 


SEPTEMBER  7. 
My  roses  bud  and  bloom  and  fail  me  never, 

From  Lent  and  Whitsun  to  the  Christmas  time ; 
Climbing  in  eagerness  and  great  endeavor — 
Our   Southland  bushes  ever  love  to  climb. 

JAMES  MAIN  DIXON,  in  My  Garden. 

How  bright  the  world  looked,  to  be  sure;  flowers 
covered  the  earth,  not  scattered  in  niggardly  manner 
as  in  the  older,  colder  Eastern  states,  but  covering  the 
earth  for  miles,  showing  nothing  but  a  sea  of  blue 
an  ocean  of  crimson,  or  a  wilderness  of  yellow.  Then 
came  patches  where  all  shades  and  colors  were  mixed ; 
delicate  tints  of  pink  and  mauve,  of  pure  white  and 
deep  red,  and  over  all  floated  a  fragrance  that  was 
never  equaled  by  garden-flowers  or  their  distilled  per 
fume. 

JOSEPHINE  CLIFFORD  MCCRACKIN,  in  Overland  Talcs. 

SEPTEMBER  8. 

The  love  that  gives  all,  craves  all,  asks  nothing,  is 
so  bitter  that  no  one  lifts  the  cup  voluntarily,  and  yet 
if  the  sweetness  of  it  could  be  distilled,  prosperous 
love  would  regard  it  enviously  and  kings  seek  it  on 
foot. 

AMANDA  MATHEWS,  in  Hieroglyphics  of  Love. 

The  world  will  never  be  saved  from  its  sin  and  shame 
until  a  larger  number  of  men  are  ready  to  lash  them 
selves  like  Ulysses  of  old  to  those  enduring  principles 
of  righteousness  which  stand  erect  like  masts  and  sail 
on,  no  matter  what  sirens  of  personal  indulgence  sing 
along  the  course. 

CHARLES  REYNOLDS  BROWN. 

270 


SEPTEMBER  7. 


SEPTEMBER  8. 


271 


SEPTEMBER  9. 
To    CALIFORNIA: 
Queen   of  the   Sunset ! 

Within  the  crown  upon   thy  forehead  glow 
The  crystal  jewels  of  eternal  snow. 
Down  at  thy  feet  the  broad  Pacific  towers, 
And  Summer  ever  binds  thy  breast  with  flowers. 
MADGE  MORRIS  WAGNER,  in  Debris. 

The  religious  life  of  California  is  characterized  by 
the  spirit  of  freedom  and  tolerance.  The  aim  has  been 
to  "Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar's," 
by  legislating  only  in  regard  to  those  secular  interests 
in  which  all  stand  alike  before  the  law  and  to  leave  to 
the  free  and  untrammeled  decision  of  the  individual 
conscience  those  deeper,  personal  attitudes  and  rela 
tionships  "which  are  God's." 

CHARLES  REYNOLDS   BROWN. 

SEPTEMBER  10. 

Gay  little  oriole,   fond  little  lover, 
Watching  thy  mate  o'er  her  tiny  ones  hover, 
Tell  me,  I  pray,  from  your  cottonwood  tree, 
When  will  my  true  love  come  riding  to  me  ? 
Will  he  come  with  his  lariat  hung  at  his  side? 
On     a  wild  prancing  bronco,  my  love,  will  he  ride? 
So   high   on   your  tree   top  you   surely   can   see, 
O,  how  will  my  true  love  come  riding  to  me  ? 
Sing  of  my  lover  and  tell  me  my  fate, 
Will  he  guard  me  as  fondly  as  thou  dost  thy  mate? 
Dear  oriole,   sing,  while  I  listen  to  thee — 
When  will  my  true  love  come  riding  to  me? 

CHARLES   KEELER,   in   Overland  Monthly. 

272 


SEPTEMBER  9. 


SEPTEMBER  10. 


273 


SEPTEMBER  11. 
LOOKING  BACKWARD! 

My  heart  aches,  and  a  poignant  yearning  pains 
My  pulse,  as  though  from  revel  I  had  waked 
To  find  sore  disenchantment. 
Oh  for  the  simple  ways  of  childhood, 
And  its  joys! 

Why  have  I  grown  so  cold  and  cynical  r 
My  life  seems  out  of  tune; 
Its  notes  harsh  and  discordant; 
The  crowded  thoroughfare  doth  fret  me 
And  make  lonely. 
Darkling  I  muse  and  yearn 
For  those  glad  days  of  yore, 
When  my  part  chorded  too, 
And  I,  a  merry,  trustful  boy, 

Found  consonance  in  every  friend  without  annoy. 
Since  then,  how  changed! 

Strained  are  the  strings   of  friendship;   fled  the  joys; 
Seeming  the  show. 
An  alien  I,  unlike,  alone! 
And   yet   my   mother!      The    welcome    word    o  erflows 

the  eye, 

And  makes  the  very  memory  weep. 
No,  love  is  not  extinct— that  sweetest  name— 
The  covering  ashes  keep  alive  the  flame. 

MALCOLM  McLEOD,  in  Culture  Simplicity. 

SEPTEMBER  12. 

The  overgoing  sun  shines  upon  no  region,  of  equal 
extent,  which  offers  so  many  and  such  varied  induce 
ments  to  men  in  search  of  homes  and  health    as   does 
the    region    which    is    entitled    to    the    appellation     < 
"Semi-Tropical   California." 

BEN  C.  TRUMAN,  in  Semi-Tropical  California. 

274 


SEPTEMBER  11. 


SEPTEMBER  12. 


275 


SEPTEMBER  13. 
THE  CRESTED  JAY. 
The  jay  is  a  jovial  bird— heigh-ho ! 

He  chatters  all  day 

In   a   frolicsome   way 
With  the  murmuring  breezes  that  blow— heigh-ho ! 

Hear  him  noisily  call 

From  a  redwood  tree  tall 
To  his  mate  in  the  opposite  tree— heigh-ho ! 

Saying:   "How   do  you   do?" 

As'  his  top-knot  of  blue 
Is  raised  as  polite  as  can  be— heigh-ho! 

O    impudent    jay, 

With  your  plumage  so  gay, 
And  your  manners  so  jaunty  and  free — heigh-ho! 

How  little  you  guessed 

When  you  robbed  the  wren's  nest, 
That  any  stray  fellow  would  see— heigh-ho ! 

CHARLES  KEELER,  in  Elfin  Songs  of  Sunland. 

SEPTEMBER  14. 

It  is  to  prevent  the  wholesale  slaughter  of  song 
birds  that  I  appeal  to  you.  The  farmer  or  the  fruit- 
raiser  has  not  yet  learned  enough  to  distinguish  friend 
from  foe,  and  goes  gunning  in  season  and  out  of  sea 
son,  so  that  the  cherry  orchard,  when  the  cherries  are 
ripe,  looks  like  a  battle-field  in  miniature,  the  life- 
blood  of  the  little  slain  birds  rivaling  in  color  the 
brightness  of  their  wings  and  breast.  And  all  this 
destruction  of  song,  of  gladness,  of  helpfulness,  be 
cause  the  poor  birds  have  pecked  at  a  few  early  cher 
ries,  worthless,  almost,  in  the  market,  as  compared  to 
the  later,  better  kinds,  which  they  do  not  interfere 
with.  JOSEPHINE  CLIFFORD  MCCRACKIN. 

276 


SEPTEMBER  13. 


SEPTEMBER  14. 


277 


SEPTEMBER  15. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE  CALIFORNIA  DOVE. 
Come,  listen  O  love,  to  the  voice  of  the  dove, 

Come,  hearken  and  hear  him  say, 
"There  are   many  Tomorrows,  my  love,   my  love, 

There  is  only  one  Today." 
And  all  day  long  you  can  hear  him  say, 

This  day  in  purple  is  rolled, 
And  the  baby  stars  of  the  milky  way 

They  are  cradled  in  cradles  of  gold. 
Now  what  is  thy  secret,  serene  gray  dove, 

Of  singing  so  sweetly  alway? 
"There   are   many   Tomorrows,   my   love,   my  love, 

There  is  only  one  Today." 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

SEPTEMBER  16. 

With  the  tip  of  his  strong  cane  he  breaks  off  a  piece 
of  the  serried  bark,  and  a  spider  scurries '  down  the 
side  of  the  log  and  into  the  grass.  He  chips  off  an 
other  piece,  and  a  bevy  of  sow-bugs  ma'ke  haste  to 
tumble  over  and  play  dead,  curling  their  legs  under 
their  sides,  but  recovering  their  senses  and  scurrying 
off  after  the  spider.  The  cane  continues  to  chip  off 
the  bark,  and  down  tumble  all  sorts  of  wood-people, 
some  of  them  hiding  like  a  flash  in  the  first  moist  earth 
they  come  to;  others  never  stopping  until  they  are 
well  under  the  log,  where  experience  has  taught  them 
they  will  be  safe  out  of  harm's  way.  And  they  declare 
to  themselves,  and  to  each  other,  that  they  will  never 
budge  from  under  that  log  until  it  is  midnight,  and 
that  wicked  meadow-lark  is  fast  asleep. 

ELIZABETH     AND    JOSEPH     GRINNELL, 

in  Birds  of  Song  and  Story. 
278 


SEPTEMBER  15. 


SEPTEMBER  16. 


279 


SEPTEMBER  17. 

SIESTA. 

A  shady  nook  where  nought  is  overheard 
But  wind  among  the  eucalyptus  leaves, 
The  cheery  chirp  of  interflitting  bird, 

Or  wooden  squeak  of  tree-frog  as  it  grieves. 
The  resting  eye  broods  o'er  the  running  grass, 
Or  nodding  gestures  of  the  bowed  wild  oats ; 
Watches  the  oleander  lancers  pass, 

And  the  bright  flashing  of  the  oriole  notes. 
Hushed  are  the  senses  with  the  drone  of  bees 

And  the  far  glimmer  of  the  mid-day  heat ; 
Oreams  stealing  o'er  one  like  the  incoming  seas, 

Soft  as  the  rustling  zephyrs  in  the  wheat; 
vVhile  on  the  breeze  is  borne  the  call  of  Love 
To  Love,  dear  Love,  of  Majel,  the  wild  dove. 
CHARLES  ELMER  JENNEY,  in  Western  Field,  Dec.,  1905. 

SEPTEMBER  18. 

One  summer  there  came  a  road-runner  up  from  the 
lower  valley,  peeking  and  prying,  and  he  never  had 
any  patience  with  the  water  baths  of  the  sparrows. 
His  own  ablutions  were  performed  in  the  clean,  hope 
ful  dust  of  the  chaparral;  and  whenever  he  happened 
on  their  morning  splatterings,  he  would  depress  his 
glossy  crest,  slant  his  shining  tail  to  the  level  of  his 
body,  until  he  looked  most  like  some  bright  venomous 
snake,  daunting  them  with  shrill  abuse  and  feint  of 
battle.  Then  suddenly  he  would  go  tilting  and  bal 
ancing  down  the  gully  in  fine  disdain,  only  to  return 
in  a  dav  or  two  to  make  sure  the  foolish  bodies  were 
still  at  it. 

MARY  AUSTIN,  in  The  Land  of  Little  Rain. 


280 


SEPTEMBER  17. 


SEPTEMBER  18. 


281 


SEPTEMBER  19. 
MEADOW  LARKS. 
Sweet,   sweet,  sweet !    O  happy  that   I  am ! 

(Listen  to  the  meadow-larks,  across  the  fields  that 

sing!) 
Sweet,  sweet,  sweet !    O  subtle  breath  of  balm. 

O   winds  that   blow,   O  buds   that  grow,   O   rapture 

of  the   Spring! 

Sweet,  sweet,  sweet!    Who  prates  of  care  and  pain? 
Who  says   that   life   is   sorrowful?     O   life   so   glad, 

so  fleet! 
Ah!  he  who  lives  the  noblest  life  finds  life  the  noblest 

gain. 
The  tears  of  pain  a  tender  rain  to  make  its  waters 

sweet. 
Sweet,  sweet,  sweet!    O  happy  world  that  is! 

Dear   heart,    I   hear   across    the   fields    my   mateling 

pipe  and  call. 
Sweet,  sweet,  sweet !     O  world  so  full  of  bliss — 

For  life  is  love,  the  world  is  love,  and  love  is  over 

all! 
INA  D.  COOLBRITH,  in  Songs  from  the  Golden  Gate. 

SEPTEMBER  20. 

How  could  we  spare  the  lark,  that  most  companion 
able  bird  of  the  plains?  Wherever  one  may  wander 
....  his  lovely,  plaintive,  almost  human  song  may  be 
heard  nearly  everywhere,  at  frequent  intervals  the  live 
long  day.  He  is  one  of  the  blessings  of  this  land,  one 
which  every  lover  of  beautiful  song  welcomes  as  hear 
tily  as  the  ordinary  mortal  the  warm,  bright  days  of 
this  climate. 

CHARLES  FRANKLIN  CARTER, 
in  Some  By-Ways  of  California. 

282 


SEPTEMBER  19. 


SEPTEMBER  20. 


283 


SEPTEMBER  21. 
THE  MEADOW  LARK  AND  I. 

***** 
The  song  of  life  is  living 

The  love-heart  of  the  year; 
And  the  pagan  meadow-lark  and  I 

Can  nothing  find  to  fear. 
We  build  our  simple  homes 

For  opulence  of  rest 

Among  the   hills   and  the   meadow   grass, 
And  sing  our  grateful  best. 

RUBY  ARCHER. 

SEPTEMBER  22. 

THE  RUBY-CROWNED  KNIGHT. 

The  dominant  characteristic  of  the  Ruby-Crown  is 
subtlety.  He  conceals  his  nest,  and  even  his  nest- 
building  region,  so  successfully  that  few  there  are  who 
know  where  he  breeds,  or  who  ever  find  his  nest,  hid 
den  in  the  shaggy  end  of  a  high,  swinging  branch  of 
spruce  or  pine,  deep  in  the  California  mountain  recesses. 
His  prettiest  trick  of  concealement  is  the  way  he  alter 
nately  hides  and  reveals  the  bright  red  feathers  in  his 
crown.  You  may  watch  him  a  long  time,  seeing  only 
a  wee  bit  of  an  olive-green  bird,  toned  with  dull  yellow 
underneath,  marked  on  wings  and  about  the  eyes  with 
white;  but  suddenly,  a  more  festive  mood  comes  upon 
him.  The  bird  is  transformed.  A  jaunty  dash  of  bril 
liant  red  upcrests  itself  upon  his  head,  lighting  up  his 
quiet  dress.  .  .  For  several  moments  this  flame  of 
color  quivers,  then  it  burns  into  a  mere  thread  of  red 
and  is  gone. 

VIRGINIA    GARLAND,   in   Feathered   Californians. 

284 


SEPTEMBER 


SEPTEMBER  22. 


285 


SEPTEMBER  23. 
SONG  OF  THE  LINNETS. 
"Cheer!"  "Cheer!"  sing  the  linnets 
Through  rapturous  minutes, 
When  daylight  first  breaks 
And  the  golden  Dawn  streaks 
Through  the  rose  of  the  morning — so  bright! 
"Gone!  gone  is  the  Night!     It  is  light!" 
"We   have  buried  our  heads 
Under  eaves  of  the  sheds, 
Where  our  tender  broods  sleep; 
And  the  long  watch  we  keep 
Through   the   darkness   and   silence — till   dawn. 
It  is  morn !    It  is  morn !    It  is  morn !" 

JOHN  WARD  STIMSON,  in  Wandering  Chords, 

SEPTEMBER  24. 
THE  HUMMING  BIRD. 
Buz-z!  whir-r! — a  flash  and  away! 
A  midget  hejeweled  mid  flowers  at  play! 
A  snip  of  a  birdling,  the  blossom-bells'  king, 
A  waif  of  the  sun-beams  on  quivering  wing! 
O  prince  of  the  fairies,  O  pygmy  of  fire, 
Will  nothing  those  brave  little  wings  of  yours  tire? 
Yo"  follow  the  flowers  from  southern  lands  sunny, 
You  pry  amid  petals  all  summer  for  honey ! 
Now  rest  on  a  twig,  tiny  flowerland  sprite, 
Your  dear  little  lady  sits  near  in  delight; 
In  a  wee  felted  basket  she  lovingly  huddles — 
Two  dots  of  white  eggs  to  her  warm  breast  she  cuddles ! 
Whiz-z !  whiff !  off  to  your  flowers ! 
Buzz  mid  the  perfume  of  jasmine  bowers! 
Chatter  and  chirrup,  my  king  of  the  fays, 
And  laugh  at  the  song  that  I  sing  in  your  praise! 

CHARLES  KEENER,  in  Elfin  Songs  of  Sunland. 


SEPTEMBER  23. 


SEPTEMBER  24. 


2S/ 


SEPTEMBER  25. 
THE   HUMMING   BIRD. 
A  sudden  whirr  of  eager  sound — 
And  now   a   something   throbs   around 
The  flowers  that  watch  the  fountain.  Look! 
It  touched  the  rose,  the  green  leaves  shook, 
I  think,  and  yet  so  lightly  tost 
That  not  a  spark  of  dew  was  lost. 
Tell  me,  O  rose,  what  thing  it  is 
That  now  appears,  now  vanishes? 
Surely  it  took  its  fire-green  hue 
From  day-breaks  that  it  glittered  through; 
Quick,  for  this  sparkle  of  the  dawn 
Glints  through  the  garden  and  is  gone. 
EDWIN  MARKHAM,  in  Lincoln  and  Other  Poems. 

SEPTEMBER  26. 

She  led  the  way  to  the  climbing  rose  at  the  front  of 
the  house,  and  carefully  lifting  a  branch,  motioned  to 
the  boys  to  look  under  it.  There,  hidden  in  the  leafy 
covert,  no  higher  than  the  young  girl's  chin,  was  the 
daintiest  nest  ever  seen,  made  of  soft  cotton  from  the 
pussy  willows  by  the  brook,  interwoven  with  the  finest 
grasses  and  green  mosses,  and  embroidered  with  one 
shining  golden  thread.  And  there  was  wee  mother 
humming-bird,  watching  them  a  moment  with  bright, 
inquiring  eyes,  then  darting  off  and  poising  in  the  air 
just  above  their  heads,  uncovering  two  tiny  eggs  about 
the  size  of  buckshot,  lying  in  a  downy  hollow  like  a 
thimble. 

FLORA  HAINES  LOUGHEAD,  in  The  Abandoned  Claim. 


SEPTEMBER  25. 


SEPTEMBER  26. 


LO  2S9 


SEPTEMBER  27. 

THE  RUSSET-BACKED  THRUSH. 
He  dwells  where  pine  and  hemlock  grow, 

A  merry  minstrel  seldom  seen ; 
The  voice  of  Joy  is  his  I  know — 

Shy  poet  of  the  Evergreen  ! 
In  dawn's  first  holy  hush  I  hear 

His  one  ecstatic,  thrilling  strain, 
So  sweet  and  strong,  so  crystal  clear 

'Twould  tingle  e'en  the  soul  of  Pain. 
Al  close  of  day  when  Twilight  dreams 

He  shakes  the  air  beneath  his  tree 
With  such  exquisite  song  it  seems 

That  Passion  breathes  through  Melody. 

HERBERT  BASHFORD,  in  At  the  Shrine  of  Song. 

SEPTEMBER  28. 

In  Marin  County  birds  hold  a  unique  place,  for,  as 
the  county  is  sparsely  populated,  possessing  many  wild, 
secluded  valleys,  and  unnumbered  rolling  hills  covered 
with  virgin  forests,  it  is  but  natural  that  the  birds 
should  congregate  in  great  ^numbers,  reveling  in  the 
solitude  which  man  invariably  destroys. 

HELEN  BINGHAM,  in  In  Tamal  Land. 

THE  ABALONE. 

I   saw  a   rainbow,   for  an  instant,  gleam, 
On  the  west  edge  of  a  receeding  swell ; 
The   next   soft   surge, 
Which   whispering   sought   the   shore, 
Swept  to  my  feet  an  abalone  shell ; 
It  was  the  rainbow  I  had  seen  before. 

JOHN    E.    RICHARDS,    in   Idylls    of   Monterey. 

290 


SEPTEMBER  27. 


SEPTEMBER  28. 


291 


SEPTEMBER  29. 
THE  SEAGULL. 
A  ceaseless  rover,  waif  of  many  climes, 

He  scorns  the  tempest,  greets  the  lifting  sun 

With  wings  that  fling  the  light  and  sinks  at  times 

To  ride  in  triumph  where  the  tall  waves  run. 

The  rocks  tide-worn,  the  high  cliff  brown  and  bare 

And  crags  of  bleak,  strange  shores  he  rests  upon ; 
He  floats  above,  a  moment  hangs  in  air  [dawn. 

Clean-etched  against  the  broad,  gold  breast  of 

*     *     *     * 
Bold  hunter  of  the  deep !    Of  thy  swift  flights 

What  of  them  all  brings  keenest  joy  to  thee— 
To  drive  sharp  pinions  through  storm-beaten  nights, 

Or  shriek  amid  black  hollows  of  the  sea? 
HERBERT  BASHFORD,  in  At  the  Shrine  of  Song. 


SEPTEMBER  30. 
To  A  SEA  GULL  AT  SEA. 
Thou  winged  Wonder ! 
Tell  me  I  pray  thy  matchless  craft, 
Poised  in  air,  then  slipping  wave-ward, 
Mounting  again  like  an  arrow-shaft, 
Circling,   swaying,   wheeling,   dipping, 
All  with  never  a  flap  of  wing, 
Keeping  pace  with  my  flying  ship  here, 
Give  me  a  key  to  my  wondering! 
Gales  but  serve  thee  for  swifter  flying, 
Foam  crested  waves  with  thy  wings  thou  dost  sweep, 
Wonderful  dun-colored,  down-covered  body, 
Living  thy  life  on  the  face  of  the  deep ! 

ANNIE  W.   BRIGMAN. 

292 


SEPTEMBER  29. 


SEPTEMBER  30. 


2'-»3 


OCTOBER  1. 

THE  PASSING  OF  SUMMER. 
She  smiled  to  the  hearts  that  enshrined  her, 

Then  the  gold  of  her  banner  unfurled 
And  trailing  her  glories  behind  her 
Passed  over  the  rim  of  the  world. 

HARTLEY  R.  WILEY, 
in  New  England  Magazine,  October,  1906. 

The  California  condor,  the  largest  of  all  flying  birds, 
is  found  only  on  this  coast  and  only  in  the  southern 
half  of  that,  although  an  occasional  specimen  has  been 
seen  in  the  high  Sierra  Neveda.  Of  all  the  sailing 
or  soaring  birds  he  is  the  most  graceful  and  wonder 
ful,  drifting  to  and  fro,  up  and  down,  right  or  left, 
in  straight  lines  or  curves,  for  hours  at  a  time,  darting 
like  an  arrow  or  hanging  still  in  air  with  equal  ease 
on  that  motionless  wing  whose  power  puzzles  all  phi 
losophy.  T.  S.  VANDYKE. 

OCTOBER  2. 

Wild  fowl,  quacking  hordes  of  them,  nest  in  the 
tulares.  Any  day's  venture  will  raise  from  open  shallows 
the  great  blue  heron  on  his  hollow  wings.  Chill  even 
ings  the  mallard  drakes  cry  continually  from  the  glassy 
pools,  the  bittern's  hollow  boom  rolls  along  the  water 
paths.  Strange  and  far-flown  fowl  drop  down  against 
the  saffron,  autumn  sky.  All  day  wings  beat  above  it 
with  lazy  speed;  long  flights  of  cranes  glimmer  in  the 
twilight.  By  night  one  wakes  to  hear  the  clanging 
geese  go  over.  One  wishes  for,  but  gets  no  nearer 
speech  from  those  the  ready  fens  have  swallowed  up. 
What  they  do  there,  how  fare,  what  find,  is  the  secret 
of  the  tulares. 

MARY  AUSTIN,  in  The  Land  of  Little  Rain. 

294 


OCTOBER  1. 


OCTOBER  2. 


295 


OCTOBER  3. 
MOCKING  BIRD. 

Warble,  whistle  and  ripple !  wake !  whip  up !   ha !   ha ! 
Burgle,  bubble  and  frolic — a  roundelay  far! 
Pearls  on  pearls  break  and  roll  like  bright  drops  from 

a   bowl ! 

And  they  thrill,  as  they  spill  in  a  rill,  o'er  my  soul; 
Then  thou  laughest  so  light 
From  thy  rapturous  height ! 
Earth  and  Heaven   are  combined,    in    thy    full    dulcet 

tone; 
North  and  south  pour  the  nectar  thy  throat  blends  in 

one! 

Flute  and  flageolet,  bugle,  light  zither,  guitar! 
Diamond,  topaz  and  ruby!    Sun,  moon,  silver  star! 
Ripe  cherries  in  wine! 
Orange    blossoms    divine ! 

Genius  of  Songsters !  so  matchless  in  witchery ! 
Nature  hath  fashioned  thee  out  of  her  mystery! 

JOHN  WARD  STIMSON,  in  Wandering  Chords. 

OCTOBER  4. 
THE  MOCKING  BIRD. 

Can  anything  be  more  ecstatic  than  the  mocking 
bird's  manner  as  he  pours  out  his  soul  in  song,  flirting 
that  expressive  tail — that  seems  hung  on  wires,  jerk 
ing  those  emphatic  wings,  which  say  so  much,  turning 
his  dainty  head  this  way  and  that,  and  now  and  then 
Hinging  himself  upon  the  air — light  as  a  feather — in 
pure  delight,  and  floating  down  to  place  again  without 
dropping  a  note.  It  is  a  poem  in  action  to  see  him,  so 
lithe,  so  graceful  in  every  movement. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 

296 


OCTOBER  3. 


OCTOBER  4. 


297 


OCTOBER  5. 

THE  MOCKING   BIRD. 

Each  flower  a  single  fragrance  gives, 

But  not  the  perfume  of  the  rest ; 
Within  each  fruit  one  flavor  lives, 
Not  all  the  flavors  of  our  quest ; 
In  every  bird  one  song  we  note 

That  seems  the  sweeter  without  words ; 
Yet  from  the  mock-bird's  mellow  throat 
Come  all   the   songs  of  other  birds. 
FRED  EMERSON  BROOKS, 
in  Pick  eft's  Charge  and  Other  Poems. 


OCTOBER  6. 

When  a  mocking-bird  looks  squarely  at  you,  not  turn 
ing  his  head  one  side,  and  then  the  other,  like  most 
birds,  but  showing  his  front  face  and  using  both  eyes 
at  once,  like  an  owl — when  he  looks  squarely  at  you  in 
this  way,  he  shows  a  wise,  wise  face.  You  almost  be 
lieve  he  could  speak  if  he  would,  and  you  cannot  resist 
the  feeling  that  he  is  more  intelligent  than  he  has  any 
right  to  be,  having  behind  those  clear,  sharp  eyes,  only 
"blind  instinct,"  as  the  wise  men  say. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 

A  sunset  in  San  Juan  is  truly  worth  crossing  either 
a  continent  or  an  ocean  to  witness,  when  the  ranges 
toward  La  Paz  are  purple  where  the  sage-brush  is, 
and  rose-color  where  the  rains  have  washed  the  steep 
places  to  the  clay,  and  over  all  of  mesa  and  mountain 
the  soft  glory  of  golden  haze. 

MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN,  in  For  the  Soul  of  Rafael. 

298 


OCTOBER  5. 


OCTOBER  6. 


299 


OCTOBER  7. 
THE  MOCKING  BIRD. 

He  has  an  agreeable  way  of  improving  upon  the 
original  of  any  song  he  imitates,  so  that  he  is  supposed 
to  give  free  music-lessons  to  all  the  other  birds.  His 
own  notes,  belonging  solely  to  himself,  are  beautiful 
and  varied,  and  he  sandwiches  them  in  between  the 
rest  in  a  way  to  suit  the  best.  No  matter  who  is  the 
victim  of  his  mimicry,  he  loves  the  corner  of  a  chimney 
bettf-r  than  any  other  perch,  and  carols  out  into  the  sky 
and  down  into  the  black  abyss  as  if  chimneys  were 
made  on  purpose  for  mocking-birds. 

ELIZABETH    AND   JOSEPH    GRINNELL, 

in  Birds  of  Song  and  Storv. 

OCTOBER  8. 

I  love  the  mocking-bird ;  not  because  he  is  a  wonder 
ful  musician,  for — as  I  have  heard  him — that  he  is  not ; 
nor  because  he  has  a  sweet  disposition,  for  that  he  cer 
tainly  has  not,  but  because  of  his  mysterious  habit  of 
singing  at  night,  which  seems  to  differentiate  him  from 
his  kind,  and  approach  him  to  the  human ;  because  of 
his  rapturous  manner  of  song,  his  joy  of  living;  be 
cause  he  shows  so  much  character,  and  so  much  intel 
ligence. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 

The  lift  of  every  man's  heart  is  upward  ;  to  help  an 
other  human  soul  in  its  upward  evolution  is  life's  great 
est  and  most  joyful  privilege;  to  lend  ourselves  each 
to  the  other  as  an  inspiration  to  grander  living  is  life's 
highest  ministry  and  reward. 

DANA  W.  BARTLETT,  in  The  Better  City. 

300 


OCTOBER  7. 


OCTOBER  8. 


301 


OCTOBER  9. 
THE  WATER  OUZEL. 

The  vertical  curves  and  angles  of  the  most  precipi 
tous  torrents  he  traces  with  the  same  rigid  fidelity, 
swooping  down  the  inclines  of  cascades,  dropping  sheer 
over  dizzy  falls  amid  the  spray,  and  ascending  with 
the  same  fearlessness  and  ease,  seldom  seeking  to  les 
sen  the  steepness  of  the  acclivity  by  beginning  to  as 
cend  before  reaching  the  base  of  the  fall.  No  mattei 
though  it  may  be  several  hundred  feet  in  height  he 
holds  straight  on,  as  if  about  to  dash  headlong  into 
the  throng  of  booming  rockets,  and  darts  abruptly  up 
ward,  and,  after  alighting  at  the  top  of  the  precipice 
to  rest  a  moment,  proceeds  to  feed  and  sing. 

JOHN  MUIR,  in  The  Mountains  of  California. 

OCTOBER  10. 

Who  can  hear  the  wild  song  of  the  ouzel  and  not 
feel  an  answering  thrill?  Perched  upon  a  rock  in  the 
midst  of  the  rapids,  he  is  the  incarnation  of  all  that  is 
untamed,  a  wild  spirit  of  the  mountain  stream,  as  free 
as  a  raindrop  or  a  sunbeam.  How  solitary  he  is,  a 
lone  little  bird,  flitting  from  rock  to  rock  through  the 
desolate  gorge,  like  some  spirit  in  a  Stygian  world.  Yet 
he  sings  continually  as  he  takes  his  solitary  way  along 
the  stream,  and  bursts  of  melody,  so  eerie  and  sylvan 
as  to  fire  the  imagination,  come  to  the  ear,  sounding 
above  the  roar  of  the  torrent.  Like  Orpheus,  he  seeks 
in  the  nether  world  of  that  wild  gorge  for  his  Eury- 
dice,  now  dashing  through  the  rapids,  now  peering  into 
some  pool,  as  if  to  discern  her  fond  image  in  its 
depths,  and  calling  ever  to  lure  her  thence  from  that 
dark  retreat  up  into  the  world  of  light  and  love. 

C.  H.  KIRKHAM,  in  In  the  Open. 
302 


OCTOBER  9. 


OCTOBER  10. 


303 


OCTOBER  11. 
To  Los  ANGELES. 

May  this  great  city  of  Los  Angeles,  destined  to  be 
a  mighty  metropolis,  flanked  by  the  mountains  and  the 
sea,  grow  in  the  spirit  of  charity  and  toleration  be 
tween  man  and  man,  and  in  the  fear  and  love  of  God. 
May  our  city  ever  remain  a  fair  virgin,  sought  for  by 
the  valiant  sons  from  all  lands,  adorned  with  the  wealth 
of  the  golden  orange  and  caressed  by  the  clinging  vine. 
(Fiach  Fionn)  LAURENCE  BRANNICK. 

OCTOBER  12. 

Like  most  of  the  early  cities  of  the  coast,  Los  An 
geles  owes  its  origin  to  the  proselyting  enthusiasm  of 
the  Spanish  priesthood.  The  Mission  of  San  Gabriel 
had  been  in  existence  ten  years,  and  it  had  gathered 
several  thousand  Indians  under  its  guardianship  when 
it  was  proposed  to  establish  a  pueblo  in  that  vicinity 
in  order  that  a  temporal  development  might  proceed 
together  with  the  spiritual.  Had  there  been  no  mis 
sion  at  San  Gabriel  to  hold  fhe  savages  in  check  by 
the  force  of  a  religious  awe,  md  to  lead  them  to  in 
dustrial  pursuits,  there  probably  would  have  been  no 
founding  of  a  city  on  the  lands  above  the  Los  Angeles 
river — at  least  not  until  some  date  half  a  century  later 

C.  D.  WILLARD, 
in  History  of  the  Los  Angeles  Chamber'  of  Commerce. 

MY  CREED. 

I  believe  the  best  I  can  think,  being  fully  persuaded 
that  if  this  be  not  true,  it  is  because  the  truth  trans 
cends  my  present  power  of  thought. 

BENJAMIN  FAY  MILLS. 

304 


OCTOBER  11. 


OCTOBER  12. 


305 


OCTOBER  13. 
THE  BEAUTIES  OF  Los  ANGELES. 

So  beautiful  for  situation,  between  its  guardian 
mountain  ranges  and  the  smiling  sea,  so  wonderful  in 
its  resources  and  its  possibilities  is  this  charming  val 
ley  of  ours,  that  one  cannot  reasonably  doubt  that  its 
manifest  destiny  is  to  be  a  world  sanitarium.  *  *  *  To 
him  who  seeks  it  wisely  here,  no  demand  of  necessity, 
comfort  or  luxury  is  impossible. 
MADAME  CAROLINE  SEVERANCE,  in  The  Mother  of  Clubs. 

OCTOBER  14. 

The  entire  situation  with  regard  to  manufacturing 
in  Southern  California  has  undergone  a  radical  change 
in  the  last  few  years,  by  reason  of  the  discovery  i  oil 
in  great  quantities  in  and  around  Los  Angeles,  and  in 
other  sections  of  Southern  and  Central  California.  This 
puts  an  entirely  new  face  on  the  fuel  question,  ana 
removes,  in  a  great  measure,  what  has  always  been 
the  most  serious  problem  in  manufacturing  develop 
ment. 

C.    D.    WlLLARD, 

in  History  of  the  Lo.\  Angeles  Chamber  of  Commerce 

A  fog  had  drifted  in  during  the  night  and  was  still 
tangled  in  the  tops  of  the  sycamores.  The  soft,  humid 
air  was  sweet  with  the  earthy  scents  of  the  canyon, 
and  the  curled  fallen  leaves  of  the  live-oaks  along  the 
flume  path  were  golden-brown  with  moisture.  Beads 
of  mist  fringed  the  silken  fluffs  of  the  clematis,  drip 
ping  with  gentle,  rhythmical  insistence  from  the  trees 
overhead. 
MARGARET  COLLIER  GRAHAM,  in  Stories  of  the  Foothills. 

306 


OCTOBER  13. 


OCTOBER  14. 


307 


OCTOBER  15. 

All  believed  they  were  located  over  an  inexhaustible, 
subterranean  lake  of  oil,  and  Oilville,  city  of  tents  and 
shacks,  within  a  month  had  acquired  the  recklessness, 
the  devil-may-care  air  of  a  mining  .camp,  or  the  Fenn- 
svlvania  oil  fields.  *  *  Then  there  was  a  pause  in 
the  work  for  the  experts  decided  that  the  new  oil 
which  spouted  forth  in  such  vast  quantities  was  too 
heavy  and  malodorous  to  serve  as  an  illuminant.  Pres 
ently  however,  it  was  discovered  that  this  defect  was 
a  virtue,  for  here  was  a  non-explosive  petroleum  that 
could  be  utilized  in  great  quantities  as  a  fuel,  and  work 
was  hastened  with  renewed  vigor,  for  now  California 
possessed  the  monopoly  of  the  one  great  need,  not  only 
of  herself,  but  of  all  the  world. 

MRS.  FREMONT  OLDER,  in  The  Giants. 

OCTOBER  16. 
SAN  PEDRO. 

MORNING. 

A  smooth,  smooth  sea  of  gray,  gray  glass; 
An  open  sea,  where  big  ships  pass 

'    A  boat-dotted'  harbor ;  gulls,  wheeling  and  screaming, 
And  surf-song  and  fisher-cry  end  our  night  s  dreaming. 
Day  has  begun. 

EVENING. 

A  broken  sea  of  rosy  jade; 

A  rose-pink  sky;  black  ships  that  fade 

Into  the  night; 

Across  the  bay,  the  city  seems 

But  elfin   music,   drowsy  dreams 

And  silver  light!  OuvE  PERCIVAL. 


OCTOBER  15. 


OCTOBER  16. 


309 


OCTOBER  17. 
SUNSET  IN  SAN  DIEGO. 

The  city  sits  amid  her  palms; 
The  perfume  of  her  twilight  breath 
Is   something  as  the   sacred  balms 
That  bound  sweet  Jesus  after  death. 
Such  soft,  warm  twilight  sense  as  lie 
Against  the  gates  of  Paradise. 

Such  prayerful  palms,  wide  palms  upreached ! 
This  sea  mist  is  as  incense  smoke,  ^ 
Yon  ancient  walls  a  sermon  preached, 
White  lily  with   a   heart  of  oak. 
And  O,  this  twilight!     O  the  grace 
Of  twilight  on  my  lifted  face. 

JOAQUIN  MILLAR,  in  Collected  Poems. 

OCTOBER  18. 
AT  EVENTIDE. 

Behind  Point  Loma's  beacon  height 
In  shimmering  waves  of  grey  and  gold 
The  winter  sunset  dies;   and  Night 
Drops  her  dusk  mantle,  fold  on  fold, 

At   Eventide. 

And  now,  above  yon  shadowy  line 
That  faintly  limns  the  distant  bar, 
Through  darkening  paths,  with  steps  that  shine, 
She  comes  at  last,  our  favorite  star, 

At  Eventide. 

O  friend,  our  lives  are  far  apart 
As  Western  sea  from  Eastern  shore! 
But  in  their  orisons,  dear  heart, 
Our  souls  are  with  you,  evermore, 

At   Eventide. 

MARY  E.  MANNIX. 

310 


OCTOBER  17 


OCTOBER  18. 


311 


OCTOBER  19. 

THE  DOUGLAS  SQUIRREL. 

One  never  tires  of  this  bright  chip  of  nature— this 
brave  little  voice  crying  in  the  wilderness— of  observ 
ing  his  many  works  and  ways,  and  listening  to  his 
curious  language.  His  musical,  piny  gossip  is  as 
savory  to  the  ear  as  balsam  to  the  palate;  and,  though 
he  has  not  exactly  the  gift  of  song,  some  of  his  notes 
are  as  sweet  as  those  of  a  linnet— almost  flute-like  in 
softness,  while  others  prick  and  tingle  like  thistles.  He 
is  the  mocking-bird  of  squirrels,  pouring  forth  mixed 
chatter  and  song  like  a  perennial  fountain;  barking 
like  a  dog,  screaming  like  a  hawk,  chirping  like  a  black 
bird  or  a  sparrow;  while  in  bluff,  audacious  noisiness 
he  is  a  very  jay. 

JOHN  MUIR,  in  The  Mountains  of  California. 


OCTOBER  20. 

A  beautiful  sight  it  must  have  been,  the  wild-eyed 
graceful  mustang  with  its  gaily  dressed  rider  sweep 
ing  hither  and  thither  among  the  frightened  hosts, 
swerving  suddenly  to  right  or  left  to  avoid  the  horns 
of  some  infuriated  beast,  the  riata  flashing  high  in  air, 
then,  with  unerring  aim,  descending  upon  the  shoul 
ders  of  some  reluctant  prisoner;  amid  all  the  con 
fusion  the  bursts  of  musical  laughter  or  noisier  ap 
plause,  then  the  oaths,  in  the  liquid  Spanish  tongue 
sounding  sweetly  to  the  ear  of  the  uninitiated. 
HELEN  ELLIOTT  BANDINI, 
in  Camping  with  Fox-Hounds  in  Southern  California. 

Overland  Monthly,  February,  1892. 


312 


OCTOBER  19. 


OCTOBER  20. 


313 


OCTOBER  21. 

Immediately,  with  that  short,  pumping  bay  that  tells 
the  trail  is  hot,  the  game  near,  and  sends  the  blood 
rushing  to  one's  very  finger-ends,  the  swaying,  eager 
line  of  hounds  came  swiftly  down  the  rocky  slope, 
across  the  gully  ahead  and  up  the  other  side,  follow 
ing,  exactly,  the  path  of  the  game.  One  directly  be 
hind  the  other  they  went,  heads  well  up,  so  strong 
was  the  scent,  necks  out-stretched,  rumps  in  air,  tails 
wagging  in  short,  fierce  strokes.  No  thought  had  they 
for  us,  intent  only  on  the  game  their  noses  told  them 
must  be  close  at  hand. 

HELEN  ELLIOTT  BANDINI, 
in  Hunting  the  Wild  Cat  in  Southern  California.  From 

Overland  Monthly,  March,  1892. 


OCTOBER  22. 

Life  is  a  fight.  Millions  fail.  Only  the  strong  win. 
Failure  is  worse  than  death.  Man's  internal  strength 
is  created  by  watching  circumstances  like  a  hawk,  meet 
ing  her  every  spring  stiff  and  straight,  laughing  at  her 
pit-falls — which  in  the  beginning  of  life  are  ^  excess, 
excess,  and  always  excess,  and  all  manner  of  dishonor. 
Strength  is  created  by  adversity,  by  trying  to  win 
first  the  small  battles  of  life,  then  the  great,  by  cast 
ing  out  fear,  by  training  the  mind  to  rule  in  all  things 
— the  heart,  the  passions,  the  impulses,  which  if  in 
dulged  make  the  brain  the  slave  instead  of  the  mas 
ter.  Success,  for  which  alone  a  man  lives,  if  he  be 
honest  with  himself,  comes  to  those  who  are  strong, 
strong,  strong. 

GERTRUDE  ATHERTON,  in  Rulers  of  Kings. 

314 


OCTOBER  21. 


OCTOBER  22. 


315 


OCTOBER  23. 

WITH  THE  ARIZONA  COWBOYS. 

The  cow  or  steer  that  is  selected  to  be  roped  or  cut 
out  rarely  escapes.  While  the  horse  is  in  hot  pursuit 
the  rider  dexterously  whirls  his  riata  above  his  head 
until,  at  a  favorable  moment,  it  leaves  his  hand,  un 
coiling  as  it  flies  through  the  air,  and  if  the  throw  is 
successful,  the  noose  falls  over  the  animal's  head.  Sud 
denly  the  horse  comes  to  a  full  stop  and  braces  him 
self  for  the  shock.  When  the  animal  caught  reaches 
the  end  of  the  rope  it  is  brought  to  an  abrupt  halt  and 
tumbled  in  a  heap  on  the  ground.  *  *  The  cowboy 
is  out  of  the  saddle  and  on  his  feet  in  a  jiffy.  He 
grasps  the  prostrate  animal  by  the  tail  and  a  hind  leg, 
throws  it  on  its  side,  and  ties  its  four  feet  together, 
so  that  it  is  helpless  and  ready  for  branding  or  in 
spection. 

J.  A.  MUNK,  in  Arizona  Sketches. 

OCTOBER  24. 

So  here  I  am— settled  at  the  ole  Bar  Y.  And  it'd 
take  a  twenty-mule  team  t'pull  me  offen  it.  Of  a 
evenin',  like  this,  the  boss,  he  sits  on  the  east  porch, 
smokin';  the  boys're  strung  along  the  side  of  the 
bunk-house  t'rest  and  pass  and  laugh;  and,  out  yon 
der,  is  the  cottonwoods,  same  as  ever,  and  the  ditch, 
and  the  mesquite  leveler'n  a  floor;  and— up  over  it 
all — the  moon,  white  and  smilin'. 

Then,  outen  the  door  nigh  where  the  sunflowers  re 
growin',  mebbe  she'll  come— a  slim,  little  figger  in 
white.  And,  if  it's  plenty  warm,  and  not  too  late, ^  why, 

she'll  be  totin'  the  smartest,  cutest *       *That's  my 

little   wife— that's   Macie,   now— a-singin'   to   the  kid. 
ELEANOR  GATES,  in  Cupid:  the  Cow-Punch. 
316 


OCTOBER  23. 


OCTOBER  24. 


317 


OCTOBER  25. 

Let  this  be  known,  that  a  west-land  ranch  is  no  more 
than  a  farm,  and  a  farm  at  the  outermost  edge  of 
man's  dominions  is  forever  a  school  and  a  field  of 
strife  and  a  means  of  grace  to  those  who  live  thereon. 

*  *  *  The  ways  of  the  earth,  the  ways  of  the  sea 
sons,  the  ways  of  the  elements,  these  had  something 
to  impart,  eternally.  And  man,  no  longer  in  the  bond 
with  the  wild  things  all  about  him,  wages  ceaseless  war 
against  them,  to  protect  his  crops  and  the  fowls  and 
the  animals  that  have  come  beneath  his  guardian-ship 
and  know  no  laws  of  the  air-folk,  the  brush-folk,  or 
the  forest-folk  with  whom  they  were  once  in  brother 
hood. 

PHILIP  VERRILL  MIGHELS, 
in  C ha  twit,  the  Man-Talk  Bird. 

OCTOBER  26. 

And  after  supper,  when  the  sun  was  down,  and  they 
was  just  a  kinda  half-light  on  the  mesquite,  and  the 
old  man  was  on  the  east  porch,  smokin',  and  the  boys 
was  all  lined  up  along  the  front  of  the  bunk-house, 
clean  outen  sight  of  the  far  side  of  the  yard,  why  I 
just  sorta  wandered  over  to  the  calf-corral,  then 
'round  by  the  barn  and  the  Chink's  shack,  and  landed 
up  out  to  the  west,  where  they's  a  row  of  cottonwoods 
by  the  new  irrigatin'  ditch.  Beyond,  acrost  a  hunderd 
mile  of  brown  plain,  here  was  the  moon  a-risin',  big- 
ger'n  a  dishpan,  and  a  cold  white.  I  stood  agin  a  tree 
and  watched  it  crawl  through  the  clouds.  The  frogs 
was  a-watchin',  too,  I  reckon,  fer  they  begun  to  holler 
like  the  dickens,  some  bass  and  some  squeaky.  And 
then,  frum  the  other  side  of  the  ranch-house,  struck 
ur  a  mouth-organ. 

ELEANOR  GATES,  in  Cupid:  the  Cow-Punch. 

318 


OCTOBER  25. 


OCTOBER  26. 


OCTOBER  27. 
EL  VAQUERO. 

Tinged  with  the  blood  of  Aztec  lands, 
Sphinx-like,    the    tawny    herdsman    stands, 
A  coiled  riata  in  his  hands. 
Devoid  of  hope,  devoid  of  fear, 
Half  brigand,  and  half  cavalier — 
This  helot,  with  imperial  grace, 
Wears  ever  on  his  tawny  face 
A  sad,  defiant  look  of  pain. 
Left  by  the  fierce  iconoclast, 
A  living  fragment  of  the  past — 
Greek  of  the  Greeks  he  must  remain. 

Lucius  HARWOOD  FOOTE. 

His  broad  brimmed  hat  push'd  back  with  careless  air. 
The  proud  vaquero  sits  his  steed  as  free 
As  winds  that  toss  his  black,  abundant  hair. 

JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

OCTOBER  28. 

There  was  to  be  a  rodeo  on  the  Del  Garda  ranch. 
Out  of  the  thousands  of  that  moving  herd  could  they 
single  the  mighty  steer  that  bore  their  brand,  or  the 
wild-eyed  cow  whose  yearling  calf  had  not  yet  felt  the 
searing-iron.  Into  the  very  midst  of  the  seething  mass 
would"  a  vaquero  dart,  single  out  his  victim  without  a 
moment's  halt,  drive  the  animal  to  the  open  space,  and 
throw  his  lasso  with  unerring  aim.  If  a  steer  proved 
fractious  two  of  the  centaurs  would  divide  the  labor, 
and  while  one  dexterously  threw  the  rope  around  his 
horns,  the  other's  lasso  had  quickly  caught  the  hind 
foot,  and  together  they  brought  him  to  the  earth. 
JOSEPHINE  CLIFFORD  MCCRACKIN,  in  Overland  Tales. 

320 


OCTOBER  27. 


OCTOBER  28. 


321 


OCTOBER  29. 

Near  noon  we  came  to  a  little  cattle  ranch  situated 
in  a  flat  surrounded  by  red  dykes  and  buttes  after  the 
manner  of  Arizona.  Here  we  unpacked,  early  as  it 
was,  for  through  the  dry  countries  one  has  to  appor 
tion  his  day's  journeys  by  the  water  to  be  had.  If  we 
went  farther  today,  then  tomorrow  night  would  find  us 
in  a  dry  camp. 

The  horses  scampered  down  the  flat  to  search  out 
alfilaria.  We  roosted  under  a  slanting  shed — where 
were  stock  saddles,  silver-mounted  bits  and  spurs,  raw 
hide  riatas,  branding-irons,  and  all  the  lumber  of  the 
cattle  business.  *  *  *  Shortly  the  riders  began  to  come 
in,  jingling  up  to  the  shed,  with  a  rattle  of  spurs  and 
bit-chains.  *  *  *  The  chief,  a  six-footer  wearing  beau 
tifully  decorated  gauntlets  and  a  pair  of  white  buck 
skin  chaps,  went  so  far  as  to  say  it  was  a  little  warm 
for  the  time  of  year. 

STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,   in   The  Mountains. 


OCTOBER  30. 

HANDS  UP! 

This  is  a  request  that,  in  the  wild  and  woolly  West, 
"may  not  be  denied" ;  and  the  braver  the  man  is  to 
whom  it  is  addressed,  the  quicker  does  he  hasten  to 
comply.  Indeed,  it  would  argue  the  height  of  folly  if, 
after  a  glance  into  the  barrels  of  a  ''sawed  off,"  and  a 
look  at  the  determined  eyes  behind  them,  covering 
your  every  move,  you  did  not  instantly  elevate  your 
hands,  and  do  it  with  cheerful  alacrity.  The  plea,  "He 
had  the  drop  on  me,"  will  clear  you  in  any  frontier 
Court  of  Honor. 

A.  E.  LYNCH,  in  Self-Torture. 

322 


OCTOBER  29. 


OCTOBER  30. 


323 


OCTOBER  31. 
OUT  WEST. 

When  the  world  of  waters  was  parted  by  the  stroke  of 

a  mighty  rod, 
Her  eyes  were  first  of  the  lands  of  earth  to  look  on  the 

face  of  God; 
The   white  mists   robed   and   throned   her,  and  the   sun 

in   his   orbit   wide 
Bent  down  from  his  ultimate  pathway  and  claimed  her 

his  chosen  bride ; 
And   He   that   had   formed   and   dowered   her   with   the 

dower  of  a  royal  queen, 
Decreed    her   the    strength    of   mighty    hills,    the    peace 

of  the  plains  between ; 
The   silence  of  utmost   desert,  and  canyons   rifted  and 

riven, 
And    the    music    of    wide-flung    forests    where    strong 

winds    shout   to   heaven. 

******* 
Calling — calling — calling — resistless,  imperative,   strong — 
Soldier    and    priest    and    dreamer — she    drew    them,    a 

mighty  throng. 
The  unmapped  seas  took  tribute   of  many  a  dauntless 

band, 
And  many  a  brave  hope  measured  but  bleaching  bones 

in  the  sand ; 
Yet  for  one  that  fell,  a  hundred  sprang  out  to  fill  his 

place, 
For  death  at  her  call  was  sweeter  than  life  in  a  tamer 

race. 
Sinew  and  bone  she  drew  them ;  steel-thewed — and  the 

weaklings  shrank — 
Grim-wrought    of   granite    and    iron    were   the    men    of 

her  foremost  rank. 

324 


OCTOBER  31. 


The  wanderers  of  earth  turned  to  her— outcast  of  the 

older   lands — 
With   a   promise   and    hope   in    their   pleading,   and   she 

reached   them   pitying   hands; 
And  she  cried  to  the  Old  World  cities  that  drowse  bv 

the    Eastern    main : 
"Send  me  your  weary,  house-worn  broods  and  I'll  send 

you  men  again  ! 
Lo !  here  in  my  .wind-swept  reaches,  by  my  marshalled 

peaks    of   snow, 
Is    room    for    a    larger    reaping    than    your    o'er-tilled 

fields  can  grow ; 
Seed  of  the  Man-seed  springing  to  stature  and  strength 

in   my   sun, 
Free  with  a  limitless   freedom  no  battles  of  men  have 

won." 
******* 

SHARLOT  HALL,  in  Out  West. 


NOVEMBER  1. 

One  night  when  the  plain  was  like  a  sea  of  liquid 
black,  and  the  sky  blazed  with  stars,  we  rode  by  a 
sheep-herder's  camp.  The  flicker  of  a  fire  threw  a 
glow  out  into  the  dark.  A  tall  wagon,  a  group  of  sil 
houetted  men,  three  or  four  squatting  dogs,  were 
squarely  within  the  circle  or  illumination.  And  out 
side,  in  the  penumbra  of  shifting  half  light,  now  show 
ing  clearly,  now  fading  into  darkness,  were  the  sheep, 
indeterminate  in  bulk,  melting  away  by  mysterious 
thousands  into  the  mass  of  night.  We  passed  them. 
They  looked  up,  squinting  their  eyes  against  the  daz 
zle  of  the  fire.  The  night  closed  about  us  again. 

STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,  in   The  Mountains. 

NOVEMBER  2. 
THE  DROUTH  :    1898. 
No  low  of  cattle   from  these  silent   fields 

Fills,  with  soft  sounds  of  peace,  the  evening  air ; 
No  fresh-mown  hay  its  scented  incense  yields 

From  these  sad  meadows,  stricken  brown  and  bare. 
The  brook,  that  rippled  on  its  summer  way, 

Shrinks  out  of  sight  within  its  sandy  bed, 
Defenseless  of  a  covert  from  the  ray, 

Dazzling  and  pitiless,  that  beams  o'erhead. 
The  rose  has  lost  its  bloom ;  the  lily  dies ; 

Our  garden's  perfumed  treasures  all  are  fled ; 
The  bee  no  longer  to  their  sweetness  flies, 

The  humming-bird  no  longer  dips  his  head. 
The  butterfly — that  fairy-glancing  thing — 

Ethereal  blossom   of  the   light   and   air! 
No  longer  poises  on  its  fluttering  wing ; 

Tlow  could  it  hover  in  this  bleak  despair? 

FRANCES  M.  Mn,:Mi,  in  For  Today. 

326 


NOVEMBER  1. 


iNoVEMBER    2. 


327 


NOVEMBER  3. 

During  this  first  autumn  rain,  those  of  us  who  are 
so  fortunate  as  to  live  in  the  country  are  conscious 
of  a  strange  odor  pervading  all  the  air.  It  is  as  though 
Dame  Nature  were  brewing  a  vast  cup  of  herb  tea, 
mixing  in  the  fragrant  infusion  all  the  plants  dried 
and  stored  so  carefully  during  the  summer.  When  the 
clouds  vanish  after  this  baptismal  shower,  everything 
is  charmingly  fresh  and  pure,  and  we  have  some  of 
the  rarest  of  days.  Then  the  little  seeds,  harbored 
through  the  long  summer  in  earth's  bosom,  burst  their 
coats  and  push  up  their  tender  leaves,  till  on  hillside 
and  valley-floor  appears  a  delicate  mist  of  green,  which 
gradually  confirms  itself  into  a  soft,  rich  carpet— and 
all  the  world  is  verdure  clad.  Then  we  begin  to  look 
eagerly  for  our  first  flowers. 

MARY  ELIZABETH    PARSONS, 
in   The   Wild  Flowers  of  California. 

NOVEMBER  4. 

In  basketry  the  Porno  Indians  of  California  found 
an  outlet  for  the  highest  conceptions  of  art  that  their 
race  was  capable  of.  Protected  by  their  isolation  from 
other  tribes,  they  worked  out  their  ideas  undisturbed— 
with  every  incentive  for  excellence  they  had  reached 
a  height  in  basketry  when  the  American  first  disturbed 
them  which  has  never  been  eoualed— not  only  by  no 
other  Indian  tribe,  but  by  no  other  people  in  the  world 
in  any  age.  These  stolid  Indian  women  have  a  knowl 
edge  of  materials  and  their  preparation,  a  delicacy  of 
touch,  an  artistic  conception  of  symmetry,  of  form  and 
design,  a  versatility  in  varying  and  inventing  beautiful 
designs,  and  an  eye  for  color,  which  place  their  work 
on  a  high  plane  of  art. 

CART,  PURDY,  in  Out  West. 


328 


NOVEMBER  3. 


NOVEMBER  4. 


NOVEMBER  5. 

WHEN  IT  RAINS  IN  CALIFORNY. 
When   it   rains  in   Californy 

It  makes  the  tourist  mad, 
But  folks  that's  got  the  crops  to  raise 

Is   feelin'   mighty  glad; 
I  stand  out  in  the  showers, 

Wet  as  a  drownded  rat, 
And  watch  the  grain  a-growin', 

And  the  cattle  gettin'  fat. 

Sorry   for  them  Easterners, 

Kickin'  like  Sam  Hill, 
But  the  sun-kissed  land  is  thirsty 

And  wants  to  drink  its  fill. 
Oh,  hear  the  poppies  laughin', 

And  the  happy  mockers  sing, 
When  it  rains  in  Californy, 

Through  the  glory  of  the  spring. 

JOHN  S.  McGROARTY,  in  Just  California. 


NOVEMBER  6. 

The  broad  valley  had  darkened.  The  mountains  op 
posite  had  lost  their  sharp  details  and  dulled  to  an 
opaque  silver  blue  in  the  mists  of  twilight.  They  had 
become  great  shadow  mountains,  broad  spirit  masses. 
and  seemed  to  melt  imperceptibly  from  form  to  form 

toward   the   horizon 

There  had  come  a  harmony  more  perfect  than  life 
could  ever  give.  It  included  all  their  love  that  had 
gone  before  and  something  greater,  vaster — all  life,  all 
nature,  and  all  God. 

HAROLD  S.  SYMMES, 
in  The  Divine  Benediction,  Putnam's,  Oct.,  1906. 

330 


NOVEMBER  5. 


NOVEMBER  6. 


331 


NOVEMBER  7. 
AFTER  THE  RAIN. 
"Sweet   fields   stand   dressed   in   living  green," 

That  late  were  brown  and  bare. 
The  twitter  of  the  calling  birds 
With   music   fills  the  air. 

Was    ever    sky    so    heavenly    blue — 

'Vlear  shining  after  rain  !" 
Was  ever  wind  so  soft  and  pure, 

To   breathe   away   our   pain ! 

Oh,   roses  white,  and  roses   red, 

Your    fragrant    leaves    unfold! 
Oil,  lily,  lift  your  chalice  pure 

And   show   your   heart   of  gold ! 

FRANCES  MARGARET  MII.NE,  in  For  To-day. 

NOVEMBER  8. 

She  does  not  appear  in  public,  and  her  name  is  sel 
dom  seen  in  the  newspapers.  She  writes  no  books,  de 
livers  no  lectures,  paints  no  great  pictures,  but  remains 
the  inconspicuous,  silent  worker,  blessing  her  home, 
reinforcing  her  husband,  bringing  up  her  children,  and 
doing  the  most  important  work  God  has  intrusted  to 
the  hands  of  a  woman.  She  is  still  a  great  force  in 
the  nation;  for  the  hand  that  rocks  the  cradle  still 
rules  the  world.  Whenever  you  find  a  great  man,  you 
will  find  a  great  woman.  All  successful  men,  it  will 
be  found,  depend  upon  some  woman.  So  Garfield 
thought  when  he  kissed  his  mother  after  kissing  the 
Bible,  when  made  President  of  the.  United  States. 
REV.  WTIJJAM  RADER, 

in  Lecture  on  Uncle  Sam;  or  The  Reign  of  the  Com 
mon  People. 

332 


NOVEMBER  7. 


NOVEMBER  8. 


333 


NOVEMBER  9. 

Found  that  "gracious  hollow  that  God  made"  in  his 
mother's  shoulder  that  fit  his  head  as  pillows  of  down , 
never  could.  Cried  when  they  took  him  away  from  it, 
when  he  was  a  tiny  baby,  "with  no  language  but  a 
cry."  Cried  once  again,  twenty-five  or  thirty  years 
afterward,  when  God  took  it  away  from  him.  All  the 
languages  he  had  learned,  and  all  the  eloquent  phras 
ing  the  colleges  had  taught  him,  could  not  then  voice 
the  sorrow  of  his  heart  so  well  as  the  tears  he  tried 
to  check. 

ROBERT  J.  BURDETTE,  in  The  Story  of  Rollo. 

NOVEMBER  10. 

Lovely  color  and  graceful  outline  and  clever  texture 
are  good  things,  but  we  need  more,  much  more,  for 
the  making  of  a  real  picture.  When  the  soul  is  brim 
ming  with  an  overflowing  bounty  of  beauty,  all  means 
are  inadequate  to  express  the  fullness  of  its  splendor. 
Man  has  not  yet  come  to  his  full  heritage,  but  every 
new  mode  of  expression  is  an  added  language  which 
brings  him  a  little  nearer  to  it. 

W.   L.   JUDSONV,  in   The  Building  of  a  Picture. 

The  future  of  this  country  depends  naturally  upon 
the  caliber  of  the  succeeding  generations,  and  if  the 
Catholic  Church  is  to  succeed  in  California  or  else 
where  along  material  as  well  as  spiritual  lines,  it  must 
keep  the  fear  of  God  in  our  men  and  the  love  of  child 
ren  in  our  women,  and  if  these  two  fundamental  vir 
tues  are  thoroughly  sustained,  we  need  have  no  anx 
iety  as  to  the  future. 

JOSEPH  SCOTT,  in  Speech  at  the  Seattle  Exposition 

331 


NOVEMBER  9. 


NOVEMBER  10. 


335 


NOVEMBER  11. 

BEAUTY. 

A  hint  is  flung  from  the  scene  most  fair 
That  real  beauty  is  not  there ; 
That  earth  and  blossom,  sea  and  sky, 
Would  be  empty  without  the  seeing  eye, 
That  form  and  color,  movement  and  rhythm 
Are  not  true  elements  of  heaven 

Till    passed    through    transforming    power    of   thought; 
For  eye  seeth  only  what  soul  hath  wrought. 
Ah !     Beauty,  thou  the  flowering  art 
Of  the  upright  mind  and  guileless  heart. 

MARY  RUSSELL  MILLS. 

NOVEMBER  12. 

THE  BRAKEMAN  AT  CHURCH. 

After  asking  the  Brakeman  if  he  had  been  to  each 
of  the  leading  churches,  the  querist  finally  suggested 
the  Baptists.  "Ah,  ha!"  he  shouted.  "Now  you're  on 
the  Shore  Line !  River  Road,  eh  ?  Beautiful  curves, 
lines  of  grace  at  every  bend  and  sweep  of  the  river ; 
all  steel  rail  and  rock  ballast;  single  track,  and  not  a 
siding  from  the  round-house  to  the  terminus.  Takes 
a  heap  of  water  to  run  it  through ;  double  tanks  at 
every  station,  and  there  isn't  an  engine  in  the  shops 
that  can  run  a  mile  or  pull  a  pound  with  less  than 
two  gauges.  *  *  *  And  yesterday  morning,  when  the 
conductor  came  around  taking  up  fares  with  a  little 
basket  punch,  I  didn't  ask  him  to  pass  me ;  I  paid  my 
fare  like  a  little  Jonah — twenty-five  cents  for  a  ninety- 
minute  run,  with  a  concert  by  the  passengers  thrown 
in." 

ROBERT  J.  BURDETTE, 
Pastor  Emeritus  Temple  Baptist  Church,  Los  Angeles. 

336 


NOVEMBER  11. 


NOVEMBER  12. 


337 


NOVEMBER  13. 

Directly  opposite  sat  a  Chinese  dignitary  richly  ap- 
parrelled,  serene,  bland,  bearing  with  courteous  equa 
nimity  flirtatious  overtures  of  an  unattached  blonde 
woman  at  his  left,  and  the  pert  coquetry  of  a  young 
girl  at  the  other  side.  The  mother  of  the  girl  ventured 
meek,  unheeded  remonstrances  between  mouthfuls  of 
crab  salad.  *  *  * 

"But  you  have  not  answered  my  question,"  he  re 
minded  her.  "Do  you  believe  in  affinities?" 

"I  think  that  I  do,"  hesitatingly. 

"You  are  not  certain?" 

"N-o;  if  to  have  an  affinity  means  to  have  a  very 
dear  friend,  whom  one  trusts,  and  whom  one  desires 
to  make  happy — 

"You  speak  as   if  you   had   such   a   friend   in   mind, 
he  hazarded. 

"I  have,"  she  replied  simply. 

"Happy  man  !"  he  sighed. 

"I  referred  to  my  St.  Bernard  dog." 

"Oh !"  Protracted  silence.  "No  use,"  he  drawled. 
"My  pride  will  not  let  me  enter  the  lists  with  a  St. 
Bernard." 

"That  is  not  pride,  but  modesty,"  she  asserted,  and 
laughed.  Her  laughter  reminded  Horton  of  liquid  sun 
shine,  melted  pearls,  and  sparkling  cascades. 

IDA  MANSFIELD  WILSON,  in  According  to  Confucius. 

NOVEMBER  14. 

There's  only  one  thing  to  do,  there  can  be  but  one— 
to  say  the  thing  your  soul  says,  to  live  the  life  your 
heart  wills,  to  die  the  death  your  imagination  approves 
and  your  spirit  sanctions ! 

MIRIAM    MICHELSON,   in  Anthony    Overman. 

338 


NOVEMBER  13. 


NOVEMBER  14. 


339 


NOVEMBER  15. 

Two  LITTI.E  CHINESE  SISTERS. 

Their  blouses  were  of  pink  silk,  and  their  trousers 
of  pale  lavender.  They  wore  gay  head-dresses,  and 

were  indeed  beautiful  to  look  upon. 

******* 

Sai  Gee,  a  little-footed  playmate  of  theirs,  lived  a 
few  doors  from  them,  and  they  had  no  difficulty  in 
finding  her  home.  Sai  Gee  was  also  dressed  up  in 
her  gayest  attire.  *  *  *  Sai  Gee  could  play  the 
flute.  It  was  really  wonderful.  She  sat  upon  a  stool, 
over  which  an  embroidered  robe  had  been  thrown, 
and  played  to  them.  Her  hair  was  done  in  a  coil  back 
of  her  right  ear,  and  her  little  brown  face  was  sweet 
and  wistful  as  she  brought  forth  from  the  flute  the 
most  wonderful  sounds. 

JESSIE  Jui.iET  KNOX,  in  Little  Almond  Blossoms. 


NOVEMBER  16. 

She  was  only  a  little  yellow  woman  from  Asia,  with 
queer,  wide  trousers  for  skirts  and  rocker-soled  shoes 
that  flopped  against  her  heels.  Her  uncovered  black 
hair  was  firmly  knotted  and  securely  pinned  and  her 
eyes  were  black  of  color  and  soft  of  look.  *  *  K  She  saw 
the  morning  sun  push  its  way  through  a  sea  of  amber 
and  the  nickel  dome  of  the  great  observatory  on 
Mount  Hamilton  standing  ebony  against  the  radiant 
East.  She  heard  the  Oriental  jargon  of  the  early 
hucksters  who  cried  their  wares  in  the  ill-smelling 
alleys,  and  with  tears  she  added  to  the  number  ot 
pearls  which  the  dew  had  strewn  upon  the  porch. 

W.  C.  MORROW, 
in  The  Ape,  the  Idiot  and  Other  People 

340 


NOVEMBER 


NOVEMBER  16. 


341 


NOVEMBER  17. 

Sing  is  not  included  in  the  category  of  "goody- 
goody"  boys.  He  is  full  of  fun,  and  play,  and  willful 
pranks,  and  he  sees  the  ridiculous  side  of  everything 
quickly,  but  he  seems  naturally  to  accept  only  the  good 
and  to  shun  evil  in  any  form.  He  is  pure  and  inno 
cent  by  nature  and  seems  attracted  to  every  person  of 
similar  characteristics.  He  has  discernment  and  watches 
the  faces  of  people  closely,  .seeming  to  care  more  for 
their  motives  than  for  their  deeds. 

NELLIE  BLESSING  EYSTER,  in  A  Chinese  Quaker. 

NOVEMBER  18. 

INDIAN  ARROW  HEADS  FOUND  IN  CALIFORNIA. 
Obsidian  is  a  beautiful,  tianslucent  volcanic  rock, 
usually  black,  with  cloudy  flecks,  as  are  seen  in  jade ; 
like  jade  it  is  so  hard  as  to  be  capable  of  taking  an 
edge  like  a  razor.  Flaked  on  its  flat  surface  and  often 
beautifully  serrated  on  the  edge,  an  arrowhead  or 
a  spearhead  is  in  itself  a  thing  of  beauty  and  a  work 
of  art,  whether  the  Indian  manufacturer  knew  it  or 
not. 

L.    CLARE    DAVIS    in    "Long    Ago    in    San    Joaquin,"    in 

Sunset  Magazine. 

In  a  year,  in  a  year,  when  the  grapes  are  ripe, 
I  shall  stay  no  more  away — 

Then  if  you  still  are  true,  my  love, 
It  will  be  our  wedding  day. 

In  a  year,  in  a  year,  when  my  time  is  past- 
Then  I'll  live  in  your  love  for  aye. 

Then  if  you  still  are  true,  my  love, 
It  will  be  our  wedding  day. 

JACK    LONDON. 

342 


NOVEMBER  17. 


NOVEMBER  18. 


343 


NOVEMBER  19. 

Had  California  owed  her  settlement  and  civic  life 
wholly  to  the  vanguard  of  that  pioneer  host,  which 
pressed  steadily  westward  to  Kansas  and  the  Rock 
ies,  the  Golden  State  would  not  have  today  that  liter 
ary  flavor  that  renders  her  in  a  measure  a  unique  fig 
ure  among  the  western  states  of  the  country. 

JAMES  MAIN  DIXON, 
in  California  and  Calif  ornians  in  Literature. 

NOVEMBER  20. 

All  things  are  but  material  reflections  of  mental  im 
ages.  This  is  realized  in  picture  and  statue  in  temple 
and 'machine.  The  picture  is  but  a  faint  representa 
tion  of  the  picture  in  the  soul  of  painter.  He  did  his 
best  to  catch  it  with  brush  and  canvas.  Had  it  not 
existed  for  him  before  the  brush  was  in  his  hand,  it 
would  never  have  been  painted.  *  *  Concentration 
is  the  only  mental  attitude  under  which  mental  images 
(ideals)  shape  themselves  into  the  material  life.  ^  As 
long  as  you  hold  an  ideal  before  you  that  long  is  it 
shaping  itself  into  your  body,  your  business  and  into 
your  social  life.  When  you  chanee  your  ideal  then 
the  new  begins  to  shape  itself.  Have  vou,  like  the 
sculptor,  held  to  one  till  it  carves  itself  "into  the  mar 
ble  real?"  Or  have  you  taken  the  life-block  and  placed 
it  into  the  hands  of  an  Ideal  today,  another  tomorrow, 
and  another  next  day,  till  you  have  as  many  ideals  as 
you  have  days?  *  *  *  Is  not  your  life  a  composite  of 
all  these,  not  one  complete?  Concentration  means  hold 
ing  to  one  ideal  until  your  objective  life  becomes  that 
mental  picture.  Thus  it  is  true:  I  am  that  which  1 
think  myself  to  be. 

HENRY  HARRISON  BROWN, 
in  Concentration:    The  Road  to  Success. 

344 


NOVEMBER  19. 


NOVEMBER  20. 


345 


NOVEMBER  21. 

The  process  which  we  call  evolution  is  the  return  of 
the  atom  to  God,  or  the  extension  of  consciousness  in 
the  growing  creation,  and  this  process  which  unifies 
all  that  exists  or  can  exist  in  our  world  is  the  working 
out  of  the  One  Purpose  and  Plan  by  the  One  Power. 
This  is  what  we  mean  by  the  Spiritual  Constitution  of 
the  Universe,  and  in  the  light  of  this  thought  every 
person,  animal,  plant  and  mineral,  every  atom  and  all 
force,  all  events  and  circumstances  and  conditions  and 
objects  are  more  or  less  intelligent  and  conscious  ex 
pressions  of  the  One  Purpose  and  the  One  Life.  Man 
is  thus  led  to  count  nothing  human  foreign  to  him, 
and  his  inner  eyes  open  to  perceive  Truth,  Goodness 
and  Beauty  everywhere. 

BENJAMIN  FAY  MILLS,  in  The  New  Revelation. 


NOVEMBER  22. 

Laughter  is  the  music  of  the  soul.  It  is  the  sun  fall 
ing  on  the  rain  drops.  Laughter  is  the  nightingale's 
voice  in  the  night.  It  chases  away  care,  destroys  wor 
ry.  It  is  the  intoxicating  cup  of  good  nature,  which 
cheers,  but  does  not  cheat.  Laughter  paints  pictures, 
dreams  dreams,  and  floods  life  with  love.  Blessed 
are  the  people  who  can  laugh !  Laughter  is  religion 
and  hope ;  and  the  apostles  of  good  nature,  who  see  the 
bright  side  of  life,  the  queer  and  funny  things  among 
men,  the  clowns  in  Vanity  Fair,  as  well  as  the  deep 
and  terrible  pathos  of  life,  are  missionaries  of  com 
fort  and  evangels  of  good  health. 

REV.  WILLIAM   RADER, 

in  Lecture  on  Uncle  Sam;  or  The  Reign  of  the  Com 
mon  People. 

346 


NOVEMBER  21. 


NOVEMBER  22. 


347 


NOVEMBER  23. 

Given  so  unique  a  climate  as  ours  of  Southern  Cali 
fornia,  one  would  expect  it  to  be  hailed  gladly  as  a 
helper  in  the  solution  of  this  problem  of  how  and 
where  to  build  and  how  to  adorn  one's  home.  For  it 
really  meets  the  most  trying  items  of  the  problem, 
making  it  a  pure  pleasure. 

Instead,  then,  of  the  styles  which  suit  the  winter- 
climate  of  other  states,  and  which,  transplanted  here, 
have  grown  too  often  into  mongrel  specimens  of  for 
eign  style  and  other  times — we  should  adapt  our  South 
ern  California  homes,  first  of  all,  to  the  climatic  con 
ditions  which  prevail  here. 
MADAME  CAROLINE  SEVERANCE,  in  The  Mother  of  Clubs. 


NOVEMBER  24. 

Houses  furnished  in  all  the  styles  of  modern  deco 
rative  art  rise  in  all  directions,  embowered  in  roses, 
geraniums,  heliotropes,  and  lilies  that  bloom  the  long 
year  round  and  reach  a  size  that  makes  them  hard  to 
recognize  as  old  friends.  Among  them  rise  the 
banana,  the  palm,  the  aloe,  the  rubber  tree,  and  the 
pampas-grass  with  its  tall  feathery  plumes.  Here  and 
there  one  sees  the  guava,  the  Japanese  persimmon, 
Japanese  plum,  or  some  similar  exotic — but  grapes  and 
oranges  are  the  principal  product.  Yet  there  are  groves 
of  English  walnuts  almost  rivaling  in  size  the  great 
orange  orchards,  and  orchards  of  prunes,  nectarines, 
apricots,  plums,  pears,  peaches,  and  apples  that  are 
little  behind  in  size  or  productiveness. 

T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  in  Southern  California. 

348 


NOVEMBER  23. 


NOVEMBER  24. 


349 


NOVEMBER  25. 

He  saw  a  great  hall  furnished  in  the  most  extrava 
gantly  complete  style  of  Indian  art.  The  walls  were 
entirely  covered  with  Navaho  and  Hopi  blankets.  There 
was  a  frieze  of  Apache  hide-shields,  each  painted  with 
a  brave's  totem,  and  beneath,  a  solid  cornice  of  buf 
falo  skulls.  Puma-skins  carpeted  the  floor;  at  least  a 
hundred  baskets  trimmed  with  wood-pecker  and  quail 
feathers  were  scattered  about ;  trophies  of  Indian  bows, 
arrows,  lances,  war-clubs,  tomahawks,  pipes  and  knives 
decorated  the  wall  spaces.  Two  couches  were  made  up 
of  Zuni  bead-work  ornaments  and  buck-skin  embroid 
eries.  In  spite  of  all  this,  it  was  a  tastefully  designed 
room,  rather  than  a  museum,  flaming  with  color  and 
vibrant  with  vitality. 

GELETT  BURGESS,  in  A  Little  Sister  of  Destiny. 


NOVEMBER  26. 

She  sent  a  hundred  messages  out  into  the  hills  by 
thought's  wonderful  telegraphy.  She  saw  the  vellow- 
green  of  the  new  shoots ;  the  gray-green  of  the  gnarled 
live  oak;  she  felt  that  the  mariposa  was  waking  in  the 
brown  hillside.  She  almost  heard  the  creamy  bells  of 
the  tall  yucca  pealing  out  a  hymn  to  the  God  who  ex 
presses  himself  in  continual  creation.  Then,  O,  wonder 
of  wonders  !  Over  the  same  invisible  wires  came  back 
the  response :  It  all  means  love,  the  earth's  rendings, 
the  rains,  winds,  scorchings — it  all  means  love  in  the 
grand  consummation,  nothing  but  love.  She  thrilled  to 
the  wonder  of  it. 
ELIZABETH  BAKER  BOHAN  in  The  Strength  of  the  Weak. 

350 


NOVEMBER  25. 


NOVEMBER  26. 


351 


NOVEMBER  27. 
THE  IDEAL  CALIFORNIA  EDITOR. 

The  ideal  editor  must  be  a  colossal,  composite  figure, 
one  to  whom  no  man  of  whatever  age,  race  or  color, 
is  a  stranger;  one  whose  mobility  of  character  and 
elasticity  of  temperament  expands  or  contracts  as  oc 
casion  demands,  without  deflecting  in  the  least  from 
the  law  of  perfect  harmony.  He  must  know  how  to 
smile  encouragement,  frown  disapproval,  or,  at  an  in 
stant's  notice  bow  deferentially  and  attend  with  utmost 
courtesy  to  wearisome  stories  of  stupid  patrons,  or 
listen  to  the  fantastic  schemes  of  radical  reformers  and, 
with  apparent  seriousness  and  ostensible  amiability,  nod 
acquiescence  to  the  wild-eyed  revolutionist  upon  whom 
he  inwardly  vows  to  keep  a  careful  watch  lest  the 
fire-brand  agitator  commit  serious  public  mischief.  The 
ideal  editor  of  the  popular  press  must  be  the  quint- 
escence  of  tact ;  an  adroit  strategist,  a  sagacious  chief 
executive,  keenly  critical,  ably  judicial,  broad,  gen 
erous,  sympathetic,  hospitable,  aye,  charitable,  magnan 
imous,  ready  to  forgive  and  forget,  patient  and  long- 
suffering  when  subjected  to  the  competitive  lash  of  ad 
verse  criticism,  bearing  calumny  rather  with  quiet  dig 
nity  than  stooping  to  low  and  vulgar  forms  of  retalia 
tion. 

BERTHA  HIRSCH  BARUCH,  in  Sunday  Times  Magazine. 

NOVEMBER  28. 
CALIFORNIA  TO  IRELAND. 
Great!     Erect!     Majestic!     Free! 
Thrilled  with  life  from  sea  to  sea. 
See  the  Motherland  uphold 
To  the  sky  her  Green  and  Gold. 

LAURENCE  BRANNICK. 

352 


NOVEMBER  27. 


NOVEMBER  28. 


353 


NOVEMBER  29. 

And  the  books !  Without  final  data  at  hand,  I  in 
cline  to  believe  that  by  the  time  the  war  came  along 
to  give  us  a  new  text,  California  had  already,  in  a, 
dozen  years,  doubled  the  volume  of  American  litera 
ture.  In  the  same  way,  of  course,  that  it  was  doubled 
again — for  our  war  literature  was  not  mostly  written 
upon  the  battle-field.  In  half  a  century  this  current 
has  not  ceased.  It  is  a  lean  month  even  now  which 
does  not  see,  somewhere,  some  sort  of  book  about  Cal 
ifornia.  It  is  certain  that  as  much  literature  (using 
the  word  as  it  is  used)  has  been  written  of  Califor 
nia  as  of  all  the  other  states  together.  This  means, 
of  course,  only  matter  in  which  the  State  is  an  essen 
tial,  not  an  incident. 

CHARLES   F.   LUMMIS, 

in    The   Right   Hand    of   the    Continent,    Out    West, 
June,   1902. 

NOVEMBER  30. 

By  a  queer  sequence  of  circumstances,  the  essays, 
begun  in  the  Lark,  were  continued  in  the  Queen,  and, 
if  you  have  read  these  two  papers,  you  will  know  that 
one  magazine  is  as  remote  in  character  from  the  other 
as  San  Francisco  is  from  London.  But  each  has  hap 
pened  to  fare  far  afield  in  search  of  readers,  and  be 
tween  them  I  may  have  converted  a  few  to  my  opti 
mistic  view  of  every-day  incident.  To  educate  the 
British  Matron  and  Young  Person  was,  perhaps,  no 
more  difficult  than  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  California 
Native  Son.  The  fogs  that  fall  over  the  Thames  are 
not  very  different  to  the  mists  that  drive  in  through 
the  Golden  Gate,  after  all ! 
GEEETT  BURGESS,  in  The  Romance  of  the  Commonplace. 


354 


NOVEMBER  29. 


NOVEMBER  30. 


355 


DECEMBER  1. 

The  Bohemian  Club,  whose  real  founder  is  said  to 
have  been  the  late  Henry  George,  was  formed  in  the 
70's  by  newspaoer  writers  and  men  working  in  the  arts 
or  interested  in  them.  Tt  had  grown  to  a  membership 
of  750.  It  still  kept  for  its  nucleus  painters,  writers, 
musicians  and  actors,  amateur  and  professional.  They 
were  a  gay  group  of  men,  and  hospitality  was  their 
evocation.  Yet  the  thing  which  set  this  club  off  from 
all  others  in  the  world  was  the  midsummer  High  Jinks. 
The  club  owned  a  fine  tract  of  redwood  forest  fifty 
miles  north  of  San  Francisco.  In  August  the  whole 
Bohemian  Club,  or  such  as  could  get  away  from  busi 
ness,  went  up  to  this  grove  and  camped  out  for  two 
weeks.  On  the  last  night  they  put  on  the  Jinks  proper, 
a  great  spectacle  in  praise  of  the  forest  with  poetic 
words,  music  and  effects  done  by  the  club.  In  late 
years  this  has  been  practically  a  masque  or  an  opera 
It  cost  about  $10,000.  *  *  *  The  thing  which  made  it 
possible  was  the  art  spirit  which  is  in  the  Californian 
WILL  IRWIN,  in  The  City mThat  Was 

DECEMBER  2. 

Nearly  all  is  now  covered  with  a  luxuriant  growth 
of  vegetation  the  most  diverse,  yet  all  of  it  foreign  to 
the  soil.  Side  by  side  are  the  products  of  two  zones, 
reaching  the  highest  stages  of  perfection,  yet  none  oi 
them  natives  of  this  coast. 

Gay  cottages  now  line  the  roads  where  so  recently 
the  hare  cantered  along  the  dusty  cattle-trail;  and  vil 
lages  lie  brightly  green  with  a  wealth  of  foliage  where 
the  roaring  wings  of  myriads  of  quail  shook  the  air 
above  impenetrable  jungles  of  cactus. 

T.  S.  VAN  DYKE,  in  Southern  California. 

356 


DECEMBER  1, 


DECEMBER  2. 


357 


DECEMBER  3. 

*  *  *  The  chief  and  highest  function  of  the  Uni 
versity  is  to  assert  and  perpetually  prove  that  general 
principles— laws— govern  Man,  Society,  Nature,  Life; 
and  to  make  unceasing  war  on  the  reign  of  temporary 
expedients.  *  *  *  There  never  was  a  period  or  a  coun 
try  in  which  the  reign  of  fundamental  law  needed  con 
stant  assertion  and  more  perpetual  proof  than  our  own 
period  and  our  own  country.  *  *  *  The  living  danger 
is  that  society  may  come  to  permanently  distrust  the 
rei°n  of  law.  *  *  *  A  national  or  a  personal  life  built 
on%xpedients  of  the  day,  like  a  house  built  on  the 
sand,  will  inevitably  come  to  ruin. 

PRESIDENT  HODDEN, 
in  Inaugural  Address  of  University  of  California,  1886. 


DECEMBER  4. 

And  now  my  story  is  told,  the  story  of  my  work, 
and  the  story  of  my  life.  Looking  back  over  all  the 
long  stretch  of  years  that  I  have  carried  this  heavy 
burden,  though  I  should  not  care  to  assume  it  again, 
yet  1  am  not  sorry  to  have  borne  it.  Of  the  various 
motives  which  urge  men  to  the  writing  of  books,  per 
haps  the  most  worthy,  worthier  by  far  than  the  love 
of  fame,  is  the  belief  that  the  author  has  something 
to  say  which  will  commend  itsself  to  his  fellow-man, 
which  perchance  his  fellow-man  may  be  the  better  for 
hearing.  If  I  have  fulfilled  in  some  measure  even  the 
first  of  these  conditions,  then  has  my  labor  not  been 
in  vain. 

HUBERT  HowE  BANCROFT,  in  Literary  Industries. 


35S 


DECEMBER  3. 


DECEMBER  4. 


359 


DECEMBER  5. 

LAW  IN  THE  EARLY  MINING-CAMPS. 
Here,  in  a  new  land,  under  new  conditions,  subjected 
to  tremendous  pressure  and  strain,  but  successfully  re 
sisting  them,  were  associated  bodies  of  freemen  bound 
together  for  a  time  by  common  interests,  ruled  by 
equal  laws,  and  owning  allegiance  to  no  higher  au 
thority  than  their  own  sense  of  right  and  wrong.  They 
held  meetings,  chose  officers,  decided  disputes,  meted 
out  a  stern  and  swift  punishment  to  offenders,  and 
managed  their  local  affairs  with  entire  success;  and 
the  growth  of  their  committees  was  proceeding  at  such 
a  rapid  rate,  that  days  and  weeks  were  often  sufficient 
for  vital  changes,  which,  in  more  staid  communities, 
would  have  required  months  or  even  years. 

CHARLES  HOWARD  SHINN,  in  Mining  Camps. 


DECEMBER  6. 

New  towns  were  laid  out  in  the  valleys  to  supply 
the  camps,  and  those  already  established  grew  with  as 
tonishing  rapidity.  Stockton,  for  instance,  increased 
in  three  months  from  a  solitary  ranch-house  to  a  can 
vas  city  of  one  thousand  inhabitants.  Sacramento  also 
became  a  canvas  city,  whose  dust-clouds  whirled,  and 
men,  mules,  and  oxen  toiled;  where  boxes,  barrels, 
bales  innumerable,  were  piled  in  the  open  air,  no  shel 
ter  being  needed  for  months.  For  the  City  Hotel,  Sac 
ramento,  thirty  thousand  "dollars  per  year  was  paid  as 
rent,  although  it  was  only  a  small  frame  building.  The 
Parker  House,  San  Francisco,  cost  thirty  thousand  dol 
lars  to  build, .  and  rented  for  fifteen  thousand  dollars 
per  month. 

CH ARJ.KS   HOWARD   SHINN,   in   Mining   Camps. 

3GO 


DECEMBER  5. 


DECEMBER  6. 


361 


DECEMBER  7. 

The  prospector  is  the  advance  agent  of  progress,  civ 
ilization  and  prosperity.  *  *  *  It  is  for  the  sight  of  a 
yellow  streak  in  his  pan  that  he  has  been  tempted  to  en 
dure  the  fatigue,  cold,  and  hunger  of  the  mountains,  and 
the  heat,  thirst  and  horror  of  the  desert. 

The  prospector  is  a  man  of  small  pretensions,  of 
peaceful  disposition,  indomitable  will,  boundless  perse 
verance,  remarkable  endurance,  undoubted  courage, 
irrepressible  hopefulness,  and  unlimited  hospitalirv 
He  is  the  friend  of  every  man  till  he  has  evidence  that 
the  man  is  his  enemy,  and  he  is  the  most  respected 
man  in  the  mining  regions  of  the  West. 

ARTHUR  J.  BURDTCK,  in  The  Mystic  Mid-Region. 


DECEMBER  8. 

To  a  little  camp  of  1848  a  lad  of  sixteen  came  one 
day,  footsore,  weary,  hungry,  and  penniless.  There 
were  thirty  robust  and  cheerful  miners  at  work  in  the 
ravine ;  and  the  lad  sat  on  the  bank,  watching  them 
awhile  in  silence,  his  face  telling  the  sad  story  of  his 
fortunes.  At  last  one  stalwart  miner  spoke  to  his  fel 
lows,  saying: 

"Boys,  I'll  work  an  hour  for  that  chap  if  you  will." 

At  the  end  of  the  hour  a  hundred  dollars'  worth  of 
gold  dust  was  laid  in  the  youth's  handkerchief.  The 
miners  made  out  a  list  of  tools  and  necessaries. 

"You  go,"  they  said,  "and  buy  these,  and  come  back. 

We'll  have   a  good   claim   staked   out   for  you.     Then 

you've  got  to  paddle  for  yourself."     Thus  genuine  and 

unconventional  was  the  hospitality  of  the  mining-camp. 

CHARLES  HOWARD  SHINN,  in  Mining  Camps. 

362 


DECEMBER  7. 


DECEMBER  8. 


363 


DECEMBER  9. 

Down  in  the  gulch  bottoms  were  the  old  placer  dig 
gings.  Elaborate  little  ditches  for  the  deflection  of 
water,  long  cradles  for  the  separation  of  gold,  decayed 
rockers,  and  shining  in  the  sun  the  tons  and  tons  of 
pay  dirt  which  had  been  turned  over  pound  by  pound 
in  the  concentrating  of  its  treasure.  Some  of  the  old 
cabins  still  stood.  It  was  all  deserted  now,  save  for 
the  few  who  kept  trail  for  the  freighters,  or  who  tilled 
the  restricted  bottom  lands  of  the  flats.  Road-runners 
racked  away  down  the  paths;  squirrels  scurried  over 
worn-out  placers,  jays  screamed  and  chattered  in  and 
out  of  the  abandoned  cabins.  And  the  warm  Califor 
nia  sun  embalmed  it  all  in  a  peaceful  forgetfulness. 
STEWART  EDWARD  WHITE,  in  The  Mountains. 

DECEMBER  10. 
GOD  is  EVERYWHERE. 

Under  the  grass,  the  flowers,  and  the  sod 
Go  deep  enough  and  you  will  find  God. 
The  royal  red-gold  of  the  sunset  glow 
A  veil  for  His  unseen  face  doth  show. 
And  all  the  star-cool  vastnesses  of  night 
Still  hide  Him  not  from  the  Spirit's  sight. 

***** 

I  will  see  Him  in  all.     I  will  trust  Him  in  all, 
I  will  love  but  the  God,  to  the  God  will  I  call. 
Till  God,  full  and  perfect,  every  soul  shall  reveal, 
And  God's  glorious  purpose  each  life  shall  fulfill ; 
Till  the   earth    showeth   whole,   without   break,   without 

seam, 
Till    God's    truth    and    God's    beauty    stand    clear    and 

supreme. 

MARY  RUSSELL  MILLS,  in  Fellowship  Magazine. 


DECEMBER  9. 


DECEMBER  10. 


365 


DECEMBER  11. 
THE  KILLING  OF  THE  DEVIL,  AS  TOLD  IN  THE  LANGUE- 

DOC  FOLK-TALE  OF  THE  THREE  STRONG  MEN. 
Oh!  that  was  a  desperate  struggle— terrific  and  hor 
rible  to  see!  The  devil  shrieked  and  howled;  he 
scratched  and  bit;  while  Crowbar,  dumb  and  purple 
in  the  face,  gave  telling  blows  with  his  fists.  He  could 
not  strike  the  devil's  head,  because  of  the  horns,  and 
he  could  not  grab  his  body,  because  it  was  so  'sleek 
and  slimy.  At  length  the  devil's  strength  gave  out. 
•Crowbar  siezed  him  by  the  throat,  threw  him  on  his 
back,  put  a  knee  upon  his  breast,  and,  with  the  cane  in 
his  right  hand,  gave  him  a  blow  between  the  horns 
that  split  his  head  in  two.  But  he  died  hard.  His 
head  was  split  open,  yet  he  was  struggling,  whipping 
the  ground  with  his  tail,  and  foaming  at  the  mouth. 
At  last  he  was  still. 

SAMUEL  JACQUES  BRUN,  in  Talcs  of  Langucdoc. 


DECEMBER  12. 

FROM  "AFTER  HEARING  PARSIFAL/' 
The  century  new  announces,  "Victory!" — 
Through  Music's  witchery  o'er  Sin  and  Hell 
Man  is  redeemed.     The  Christ  is  here!     The  Soul 
Now  claims  its  own !     Nor  hope  nor  fear 
Nor  prayer  nor  hunger  now,  for  lo !  'tis  here, 
The  expected  Kingdom— God's  and  Man's!  'Tis  here! 
Day-dawn  has  come !     The  world-wide  quest  is  o'er ! 
The  Grail  was  never  losf !     'Twas  folded  safe 
Within  the  petals  of  my  heart,  and  thou 
Enchanter  wise,  reveal'st  to  me,  my  Self! 

HENRY  HARRISON  BROWN,  in  Now,  May,  1904. 


DECEMBER  11. 


DECEMBER  12. 


367 


DECEMBER  13. 

THE  VOICE  OF  THE   SNOW. 

Silently  flying  through  the  darkened  air,  swirling, 
glinting,  to  their  appointed  places,  they  seem  to  have 
taken  counsel  together,  saying,  "Come,  we  are  feeble ; 
let  us  help  one  another.  We  are  many,  and  together 
we  will  be  strong.  Marching  in  close,  deep  ranks,  let 
us  roll  away  the  stones  from  these  mountain  .sepul- 
chers,  and  set  the  landscape  free.  Let  us  uncover 
these  clustering  domes.  Here  let  us  carve  a  lake  basin ; 
there  a  Yosemite  Valley;  here,  a  channel  for  a  river 
with  fluted  steps  and  brows  for  the  plunge  of  songful 
cataracts.  Yonder  let  us  spread  broad  sheets  of  soil, 
that  man  and  beast  may  be  fed;  and  here  pile  trains 
of  boulders  for  pines  and  giant  sequoias.  Here  make 
ground  for  a  meadow;  there  for  a  garden  and  grove." 
JOHN  MUIR,  in  The  Mountains  of  California. 

DECEMBER  14. 

It  was  winter  in  San  Francisco — not  the  picturesque 
winter  of  the  North  or  South,  but  a  mild  and  inter 
mediate  season,  as  if  the  great  zones  had  touched 
hands,  and  earth  were  glad  of  the  friendly  feeling. 
There  is  no  breath  from  a  cold  Atlantic  to  chill  the 
ardor  of  these  thoughts.  Our  great,  tranquil  ocean  lies 
in  majesty  to  the  west.  It  can  fume  and  fret,  but  it 
does  so  in  reason.  It  does  not  lash  and  storm  in  vain. 
FRANCES  CHARLES,  in  The  Siege  of  Youth. 

May  the  tangling  of  sunshine  and  roses  never  cease 
upon  your  path  until  after  the  snows  of  Winter  have 
covered  your  way  with  whiteness. 

MARTIN  V.  MERLE,  in  The  Vagabond  Prince,  Act  IV. 


DECEMBER  13. 


DECEMBER  14. 


369 


DECEMBER  15. 

It  was  one  of  those  wonderful  warm  winter  days 
given  to  San  Francisco  instead  of  the  spring1  she  has 
never  experienced.  After  a  week's  rain  the  sun  shone 
out  of  a  sky  as  warmly  blue  as  late  spring  brings  in 
other  climates.  The  world  seemed  in  a  very  rapture 
of  creation.  The  bay  below  the  garden,  new  washed 
and  sparkling  like  a  pale  emerald,  spread  gaily  out. 
and  the  city's  streets  terraced  down  to  meet  ^  it.  The 
peculiar  delicacy  and  richness  of  California  roses, 
coaxed  by  the  softness  of  the  climate  to  live  out-doors 
sent  up  a  perfume  that  hot-house  flowers  cannot  yield 
The  turf  was  of  a  thick,  healthy,  wet  green,  teeminQ 
with  life.  The  hills  beyond  were  green  as  summer  in 
California  cannot  make  them,  and  off  to  the  west 
a  train  st  the  tender  sky  the  cross  on  Lone  Mountain 
was  etched. 

MTRTAM  MTCHELSON,  in  Anthony  Overman. 

DECEMBER  16. 

The  story  is  never  fully  told,  and  the  power  of  paint 
or  pen  can  never  express  entirely  the  Mory  or  the 
strength  of  the  conception  which  impelled  it.  The  best 
is  "till  withheld,  inexpressible  in  human  terms. 

Our  best  songs  are  still  unsung;  our  best  thoughts 
are  still  unuttered  and  must  so  remain  until  eves  and 
ears  and  hands  are  quickened  by  a  diviner  life  to  a 
keener  sensibility. 

W.  L.  JUDSON,  in   The  Building  of  a  Picture. 

Another  value  in  dialect  is  the  fact  that  sounds  are 
often  retained  that  are  lost  in  the  standard  speech,  or 
softer,  sweeter  tones  are  fostered  and  developed. 

JAMES  MAIN  DTXON,  in  Dialect  in  Literature. 

370 


DECEMBER  15. 


DECEMBER  16. 


371 


DECEMBER  17. 

It  is  a  compensation  for  many  ills  to  awaken  some 
December  morning  and  feel  in  the  air  the  warmth  of 
summer  and  see  in  the  foliage  the  glad  green  of  spring. 
Children  play  in  the  parks,  and  the  sun  shines,  and 
even  the  older  folks  grew  merry.  *  *  *  It  had  been  such 
a  day  as  comes  during  Indian  summer  in  other  coun 
tries.  The  air  had  been  very  kindly  and  had  breathed 
nothing  but  gentleness  toward  man  and  vegetation. 
Toward  February  people  would  be  out  searching  for 
wild  flowers  on  the  suburban  hills. 

FRANCES  CHARLES,  in  The  Siege  of  Youth. 


DECEMBER  18. 

FROM  THE  FRENCH. 
How   vain   is  life! 

Love's  little  spell, 
Hate's  little  strife, 

And  then — farewell ! 
How  brief  is  life! 

Hope's  lessening  light 
With  dreams  is  rife, 

And  then — good  night! 

BLANCHE  M.  BURBANK. 

"Everyone  for  himself,"  is  the  law  of  the  jungle.  But 
slowly   a   new   form   of   expression   is    shaping   and   we 
are    beginning    to    take    pride    in    the    things  _  that    are 
"ours,"  rather  than  in  that  which  alone  is  "mine." 
DANA  W.  BARTLETT, 

in   Our  Government  in  Social  Service,   or  a   Nation 
at  Work  in  Human  Uplift. 

372 


DECEMBER  17. 


DECEMBER  18. 


373 


DECEMBER  19. 

"BACK  THERE." 

"Back  there,"  the  gambler-wind  the   snow  is  shuffling, 

Flake    after    flake    down — dealing    in    despair; 
The  bladeless   field,   the  birdless  thicket  muffling, 
But  now  no  more  the   river's   stillness  ruffling. 
Oh,  bitter  is  the  sky,  and  blank  its   stare — 

Back  there! 
"Back    there,"    the    wires    are    down.        The    blizzard, 

meaning 

No  good  to  man  or  beast,  shakes  loose  his  hair. 
The  storm-bound  train  and  locomotive  preening 
His   sable  plume,  the  ferry-boat,  careening 
Between  the  ice-cakes,  icy  fringes  wear — 
Back  there ! 

TRACY  and  LUCY  ROBINSON  in  Out  West. 

DECEMBER  20. 
"OUT  HERE." 

"Out  Here,"  a  mocker  trills  his  carol  olden, 
High-perched   upon   some   eucalyptus   near. 
The   meadow  lark   replies;   oranges  golden 
Peer   from  the   green   wherewith   they   are   enfolden, 
And    perfume    fills    the    winey    atmosphere — 

Out  Here! 

"Out  Here,"  through  virgin  soil,  in  sunlight  mellow — 
Ay,   and  in   moonlight! — man   his   plow   may   steer, 
Nor  lose  life's  edge  in  friction  with  his  fellow; 
Nor,    parchment-bound,     with     yellowing     creeds     turn 

yellow, 

But   feel  his  heart  grow  younger  every  year — 
Out  Here! 
TRACY  and   LUCY  ROBINSON   in   Out   West. 

374 


DECEMBER  19. 


DECEMBER  20. 


375 


DECEMBER  21. 
HAPPY  HEART. 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way 

I  hear  the  flowers  and  grasses  talk: 
I   listen   to  the  gray-beard   rock: 

1  know  what  'tis  the  tree-tops  say. 
A  thousand  comrades  with  me  walk 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way. 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way 

A  bonnie  bird   a   greeting   sings, 

And  gossip  from  a  far  clime  brings;^ 

A  grumbling  bee  growls  out  "Good-day"; 
A  jest  the  saucy  chipmonk  flings, 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way. 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way 

The  brook  trips  by  with  dancing  feet, 
And  Song  and  Laughter  soft  repeat 

Their  cadence  as  I  watch  its  play; 

And  whispers  low  the  wind,  and  sweet, 

As  I  go  lightly  on  my  way. 

CHARLES  E.   JENNEY, 

in  Country  Life  in  America,  September,  1902. 

DECEMBER  22. 
EUCALYPTUS  BLOSSOMS. 
I  fell  asleep  beneath  a  fragrant 
Arrow-leafed  tree; 

And  all  night  long  its  drooping  branches 
Showered  sweet  dreams  on  me. 
But  when  the  dawn-wind  stirred  the  tree  tops 
I   saw,   oh   wondrous   sight ! 
My  dreams,  pale  spheres  amid  the  leafage, 
Ethereal,  poised  for  flight. 
MARGARET  ADELAIDE  WILSON,  in  Out  West  Magazine. 

376 


DECEMBER  21. 


DECEMBER  22. 


DECEMBER  23. 
To  MODJESKA. 

Crowned  with  the  glory  of  artistic  achievement,  with 
the  love  and  devotion  of  friends  and  family,  with  the 
homage  of  the  world,  her  royal  yet  sweet  and  gentle 
spirit  has  risen  from  the  earth  to  shine  above  like  a 
brilliant  star,  perpetually  transmitting  its  pure  white 
light  to  a  reverently  admiring  multitude. 

BERTHA  HIRSCH  BARUCH, 

Inscribed  on  banner  accompanying  floral  tribute  of 
the  Fine  Arts  League. 

NIGHT  ON  THE  DESERT. 
All  daylight  he  followed  through  endless  hot  marches 

The  trail  of  a  plodding  desire: 
Now  with  night  he  has  lost  the  fierce  fever  of  getting, 

Adrowse  by  his  dull-embered  fire. 
Immeasurable  silences  compass  him  over, 

His  body  grows  one  with  the  streams 
Of  sands  that  slide  and  whisper  around  him; 

The  stars  draw  his  soul :  and  he  dreams. 

MARGARET  ADELAIDE  WILSON,  in  Pall  Mall  Magazine. 

DECEMBER  24. 
CHRISTMAS. 
The   sun's  glory  lies   on  the   mountain 

Like  the  glow  of  a  golden  dream, 
Or  the  flush  on  a  slumbering  fountain 
^  That  wakes  to  dawn's  roseate  beam. 
So  the  year's  day  dies  in  a  glory, 

And  dying,  like  sunrays  unfurled, 
Casts  the  peace  and  love  of  Christ's  story 

Over  the  heart  of  the  world. 

HAROLD  T.   SYMMES. 
378 


DECEMBER  23. 


DECEMBER  24. 


379 


DECEMBER  25  AND  26. 
THE   NAZARINE. 

A.  manger-cradled  child,  his  mother  near, 
And   one  they  call   his   father   standing  by, 

Shepherd  and  Magi,  with  the  gifts  they  bear, 
An  angel  chorus  rolling  through  the  sky — 

Once  more  the  sacred  mystery  we  scan, 

And  wonder  if  the   Christ  be   God's  best  gift   to  man. 

Pale,  patient  Pleader,  for  the  poor  and  those 
"Whose  hearts  are  homes  of  sorrow  and  of  pain, 

Thy  voice  is  as  a  balm  for  all  their  woes ; 
Through  twenty  centuries  it  calleth  plain 

As  when  it  breathed  the  invitation  blest — 

"Ye  weary,  come  to  Me,  and  I  will  give  you  rest." 


Reason  may  seek  to  ruin,  science  scorn, 
But  that  great  love  of  Thine  hath  made  us  wise 

In  wisdom  not  of  understanding  born, 
That  bids  us  turn  to  Thee  with  longing  eyes  ' 

And  outstretched  hands.     We  know  that  Thou  art  He. 

Nor  do  we  seek  a  sign  as  did  the  Pharisee. 

Sweet  festival  that  bringeth  back  once  more 
The  golden  dreams  of  childhood,  let  us  turn 

Like  little  children  to  the   Christmas  lore 

That  once  did  hold  us  spellbound,  till  we  learn 

Again  the  lesson  of  Thy  love ;  for  we 

.M'ist  be  like  children.  Lord,  ere  we  can  come  to  Thee. 

LOUTS  ALEXANDER  ROBERTSON,  in  Cloistral  Strains. 

380 


DECEMBER  25. 


DECEMBER  26. 


DECEMBER  27. 

MEMORIES. 

I  watched  the  dying  embers,  my  vision  blurred  apace — 
I   trod   once   more   that   hallowed   ground,    of   kith,    of 

kin,   of  race. 

I  saw  again  the  turf-fire  send  its  living  flame  on  high, 
Saw  youthful  figures  grouped  around  the  Yule  board, 

laden,  nigh. 
The  latch   went   up,   the   neighbors   came   and   instantly 

good  cheer 
Went  'round  the  festive  gathering  'till  the  Christ-child 

hour  drew  near, 

The  piper  played,  the  dance  began,  and  child  and  par 
ent   fond 
Tripped   back   and    forth,   tripped   high   and   low,    with 

smile  of  loving  bond. 

ELLEN  DWYER  DONOVAN,  in  The  Christinas  Card. 


DECEMBER  28. 
MOUNT  SHASTA. 

As  lone  as  God,  and  white  as  Winter  moon. 
Mount  Shasta's  peak  looks  down  on  forest  gloom. 
The    storm-tossed   pines    and   warlike-looking   firs 
Have  rallied  here  upon  its  silver  spurs. 
Eternal  tower,  majestic,  great  and  strong, 
So  silent  all,  except  for  Heaven's  song— 
For  Heaven's  voice  calls  out  through  silver  bars 
To  Shasta's  height;  calls  out  below  the  stars, 
And  speaks  the  way,  as  though  but  quarter  rod 
From  Shasta's  top  unto  its  maker,  God. 

WILLIAM  F.  BURBANK. 


DECEMBER  27. 


DECEMBER  28. 


383 


DECEMBER  29  AND  30. 
WHERE  THE  CREAMY  YUCCA   BLOOMS. 

Say  mate,   I'm  in  the   foothills ; 

Got  a  tent  to  sleep  in  nights, 
Far  away  from  beaten  highways 

And  the  talk  of  human   rights ; 
Far  away  from  din  and  tumult, 

Where  the  greed  of  pelf  consumes — 
I've  a  corner,  here,  of  heaven 

Where   the   creamy  yucca   blooms. 

***** 
God !    the  newborn  sense  of  freedom ! 

Down  in  chain  and  bo?,  and  bar, 
Rent  the  vain  that  kept  in  hiding 

Lore   of   sky   and   silver   star. 
Wisdom  dwelleth  not  in   cities ; 

"Fis  the   foothill  night  illumes — 
Where  the   insects   chant  their   hymnals, 

And  the  creamy  yucca  blooms. 
***** 

Get  a  move  on,  mate,  come  out  here. 

Leave  the  deadly  fever-dreams 
Of  the  street  and  of  the  market 

Where  the   "rocky  yellow"  gleams. 
Here  you  live  in  every  moment, 

And  the  soul  its  own  assumes 
In  this  blessed  bit  of  heaven, 

Where   the   creamy  yucca  blooms. 
ELIZABETH    BAKER   BOHAN,   in    ll'cst  Coast  Magazine. 
384 


DECEMBER  29. 


DECEMBER  30. 


1 3  3Sn 


DECEMBER  31 
EI.ECTRJCJTY  ON  THE  COMSTOCK. 

Born  from  nothing,  it  leaps  into  existence  with  the 
full-fledged  strength  of  a  giant,  dies,  is  born  again; 
lives  a  thousand  lives  and  dies  a  thousand  deaths  in  a 
single  pulsating  second  of  time. 

It  soars  to  every  height,  plunges  to  every  depth,  and 
stretches  its  vast  arms  throughout  illimitable  space. 

It  plants  the  first  blush  upon  the  cheek  of  dawn; 
with  brush  of  gold  upon  the  glowing  canvas  of  the 
west,  it  tells  the  story  of  the  dying  day. 

At  its  mere  whim  and  caprice,  a  thousand  pillars  of 
light  leap  from  the  dark  and  sullen  seas  which  surge 
about  the  poles,  while  from  its  shimmering  loom  *  it 
weaves  the  opalescent  tapestry  of  the  aurora  to  hang 
against  the  black  background  of  the  arctic  night. 

It  rouses  nature  from  her  winter  sleep,  breaks  the 
icy  fetters  of  the  frost  that  binds  the  streams,  lifts  the 
shroud  of  snow  from  off  the  landscape,  woos  the  ten 
der  mold  and  bids  the  birth  of  bud  and  blossom;  dow 
ers  the  flower  with,  perfume  and  clothes  the  earth  with 
verdure  of  the  spring. 

It  rides  the  swift  courses  of  the  storms  that  circle 
round  the  bald  crest  of  old  Mount  Davidson;  cleaves 
the  black  curtain  of  the  night  with  scimitar  of  flame, 
rouses  the  lightnings  from  their  couch  of  clouds  and 
wakes  the  earthquake. 

Beneath  its  touch,  the  beetling  crag,  which  took  om 
nipotence  a  thousand  years  to  rear,  crumbles  into  dust, 
the  mere  plaything  of  the  idle  wind;  it  lays  its  hand 
upon  the  populous  city  with  its  teeming,  restless  mul 
titude.  And  yesterday,  where  stood  the  glittering  spire, 
the  shining  tower,  the  frowning  battlement,  today  the 
cold  gray  ocean  rolls  in  undisputed  might. 

It  gathers  the  doings  of  the  day  from  the  four  cor- 

386 


DECEMBER  31 


387 


ners  of  the  world,  the  tales  of  love  and  death,  of  fire 
and  flood,  of  strife  and  pestilence,  and  under  eight 
tnousand  miles  of  shivering  sea,  whispers  the  babble  cf 
two  hemispheres. 

It  turns  the  wheels  of  peace  where  poor  men  toil, 
and  helps  the  husbandman  to  plow  ana  plant  and  reap 
his  whispering  grain. 

It  rides  the  wings  of  war  where  brave  men  die ;  and 
when  it  stalks  between  contending  hosts,  exalts  the 
kingly  crest  and  helps  an  empire  plant  its  flag  of  con 
quest. 

It  glows  in  lonely  attics  where  weary  workers  toil 
to  earn  their  crust.  It  shines  o'er  scenes  where  feet 
of  feasters  tread  the  halls  of  revelry.  It  lights  the 
mourners  on  their  pathway  to  the  tomb.  It  glares  in 
haunts  where  jeweled  fingers  lift  the  cup  of  pleasure 
to  the  mouth  of  sin,  'mid  the  sobbing  of  the_  sensuous 
music  and  flow  of  forbidden  wine;  and  speeding  on  its 
way  illumes  the  dim  cathedral  aisle,  where  surpliced 
priest  proclaims  the  teachings  of  the  master,  and  gold 
en-throated  choirs  lift  their  hosanna.^  to  the  King 
of  Kings. 

It  was  the  Maker's  ally  at  the  dawn  of  time,  and 
when  God  from  the  depths  of  infinite  space,  said  ''Let 
there  be  light,"  it  sent  the  pulse  of  life  along  creation's 
veins,  baptized  earth's  cold  brow  with  floods  of  fire, 
and  stood  the  sponsor  of  a  cradled  world. 

SAM    P.   DAVIS. 


388 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCHES 

ANGIER,  BELLE  SUMNER,  (Mrs.  Walter  Burn.) 
Special  training  in  floricultural  and  horticultural  sub 
jects.  Staff  writer  on  Los  Anodes  Times  and  Los 
Angeles  Express.  Writer  on  garden  and  floral  topics 
for  California  newspapers  and  many  magazines.  Au 
thor:  Garden  Book  of  California.  Address:  1036  N. 
Washington  St.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

ARCHER,  RUBY,  b.  Kansas  City,  Mo.,  Jan.  28,  1873. 
lid.  Kansas  City  High  School  and  private  tutors.  Con 
tributor  of  poems,  translations  from  French  and  Ger 
man  dramas  and  lyrics,  prose  articles  on  Art,  Archi 
tecture,  Music,  Biblical  Literature,  Philosophy,  etc., 
for  papers  and  magazines.  Author:  Little  Poems. 
$1.25.  Thought  Awakening.  $1.00.  Address:  R.  F.  D. 
No.  8,  Box  11- A,  Los  Angeles,  Calif.  (The  Studio  is 
at  Granada  Park,  on  the  Covina  Electric  Line.) 

AUSTIN,  MARY.  Author:  The  Land  of  Little 
Rain,  an  account  of  the  California  Desert.  $2.00.  The 
Basket  Woman,  a  book  of  Indian  myths  and  fanciful 
tales  for  children.  $1.50.  Isidro,  a  romance  of  Mis 
sion  days.  $1.50.  The  Flock,  an  account  of  the  shep 
herd  industry  of  California.  $2.00.  Santa  Lucia,  a 
novel.  $1.50.  Lost  Borders,  the  people  of  the  desert. 
Address:  Carmel-by-the-Sea,  California,  or  care  of 
Harper  Bros.,  New  York. 

BAMFORD,  MARY  ELLEN,  b.  Healdsburg,  Calif. 
Author:  Up  and  Down  the  Brooks.  Houghton,  Mif- 
flin  &  Co.  75c.  Her  Twenty  Heathen.  Pilgrim  Press. 
50c.  My  Land  and  Water  Friends.  D.  Lothrop  &  Co. 
The  Look  About  Club.  D.  Lothrop  &  Co.  Second 
Year  of  the  Look  About  Club.  D.  Lothrop  &  Co. 

391 


Janet  and  Her  Father.  Congregational  S.  S.  &  Pub. 
Soc.  Marie's  Story.  Congregational  S.  S.  &  Pub.  Soc. 
Miss  Millie's  Trying.  Hunt  &  Eaton.  Number  One 
or  Number  Two.  Hunt  &  Eaton.  A  Piece  of  Kitty 
Hunter's  Life.  Hunt  &  Eaton.  Father  Lambert's  Fam 
ily.  Phillips  &  Hunt.  Thoughts  of  My  Dumb 
Neighbors.  Phillips  &  Hunt.  Eleanor  and  I.  Congre 
gational  S.  S.  &  Pub.  Soc.  Talks  by  Queer  Folks.  1). 
Lothrop  Co.  Jessie's  Three  Resolutions.  Am.  Bap. 
Pub.  Soc.  In  Editha's  Days.  Am.  Baptist  Pub.  Soc. 
Three  Roman  Girls.  Am.  Baptist  Pub.  Soc.  Out  of 
the  Triangle.  D.  C.  Cook  Pub.  Co.  25c.  Ti :  A  Story 
of  San  Francisco's  Chinatown.  D.  C.  Cook  Co.  25c. 
The  Denby  Children  at  the  Fair.  D.  C.  Cook  Co. 
Address:  621  E.  15th  St..  East  Oakland,  Calif. 

BANCROFT,  HUBERT  HOWE,  b.  May  5.  1832, 
Granville,  Ohio.  lid.  Granville  Academy  until  sixteen 
years  of  age.  Clerk  in  bookstore  in  Buffalo,  N.  Y. 
Came  to  San  Francisco  March,  1852.  While  building 
up  a  large  book-selling  and  publishing  house,  Mr.  Ban 
croft  worked  for  30  years  on  the  colossal  history  which 
bears  his  name,  issued  in  Vols.  as  follows :  The  Na 
tive  Races  of  the  Pacific  States,  5  vols.  History  of 
Central  America,  3  vols.  History  of  Mexico,  6  vols. 
North  Mexican  States  and  Texas.  2  vols.  California, 
7  vols.  Arizona  and  New  Mexico,  1  vol.  Colorado 
and  Wyoming,  1  vol.  Utah  and  Nevada,  1  vol.  North 
west  Coast,  2  vols.  Oregon,  2  vols.  Washington,  Idaho 
and  Montana,  1  vol.  British  Columbia,  1  vol.  Alaska, 
1  vol.  California  Pastoral,  1  vol.  California  Inter 
Pocula,  1  vol.  Popular  Tribunals,  2  vols.  Essays  and 
Miscellany,  1  vol.  Literary  Industries,  1  vol.  Also 
Bock  of  the  Fair,  Book  of  Wealth,  Resources  of  Mex 
ico,  The  New  Pacific,  etc.  Address:  2898  Jackson  St.. 
San  Francisco. 

392 


BAXDIXI,  HELEX  ELLIOTT  (Mrs.  Arturo),  b. 
Indianapolis.  Hd.  in  public  schools.  Came  to  Califor 
nia  in  1874  when  father  was  president  of  Indiana  Col 
ony,  which  founded  Pasadena.  Writer  for  newspapers 
and  magazines.  Author:  History  of  California  (Am. 
Book  Co.)  The  Romance  of  California  History  (in 
press.)  Address:  1149  San  Pasqual  St..  Pasadena 
Calif. 

BARTLETT,  DAXA  WEBSTER,  b.  Banger,  Ale. 
Oct.  27,  1860.  Ed.  Iowa  College  (Grinnell,  la.,)  1882. 
Attended  Yale  and  Chicago  Theol.  Sems.  Pastor  Phil 
lips  Church.  Salt  Lake.  Since  1896  pastor  Bethlehem 
Inst.  Church.  Los  Angeles,  which  now  covers  six  city 
lots.  Author:  The  Better  City:  "Our  Government  in 
Social  Service."  Address:  Bethlehem  Institutional 
Church,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

BARUCH,  BERTHA  HIRSCH,  b.  Province  of 
Posen,  Germany.  Came  to  NCWT  London,  Conn.,  with 
father  in  1876.  Wrote  poetry  in  her  teens  and  was  en 
couraged  by  Rose  Hawthorne  Lathrop  in  her  literary 
efforts.  Active  in  College  Settlement  and  Univ.  Ext. 
work.  Attended  Penn.  Univ.  and  Yale.  On  editorial 
staff  Los  Angeles  Times.  Address:  1168  W.  36th  St., 
Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

BASHFORD,  HERBERT,  b.  Sioux  City,  la.,  1871. 
Contributor  to  leading  magazines  on  literature  and  the 
drama.  Author:  The  Wolves  of  the  Sea;  The  Tenting 
of  the  Tillicums ;  At  the  Shrine  of  Song,  etc.  Writer 
of  several  successful  plays,  The  Defiance  of  Doris,  etc. 
Address:  San  Jose,  Calif. 

BIXGHAM,  HELEX.  b.  San  Francisco,  Aug.  23, 
1885.  ltd.  private  tutors,  with  special  reference  to 
Archaeology.  Author:  In  Tamal  Land.  $2.00.  Ad 
dress:  785  Cole  St.,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

393 


BLAND,  HENRY  MEADE,  b.  Suisun,  Solano  Co., 
Calif.,  April  21,  1863.  Ed.  public  schools,  University 
of  the  Pacific  (Ph.D.,  1890),  Stanford  University  (M.A., 
1895).  Professor  English  Literature  since  1898  at 
State  Normal  School,  San  Jose.  Contributor  leading 
magazines.  Author:  A  song  of  Autumn  and  Other 
Poems,  1908.  $1.00.  Address:  State  Normal  School, 
San  Jose,  Calif. 

BOHAN,  MRS.  ELIZABETH  BAKER,  b.  Eng 
land,  August  18.  When  4  years  old  came  to  Milwaukee, 
Wise.  Ed.  in  public  schools.  Married  in  Milwaukee 
and  beo'an  to  write  short  stories,  poems,  and  philo 
sophical  articles.  Author:  The  Drag-net,  1909,  C.  M. 
Clark,  Boston.  The  Strength  of  the  Weak,  Grafton 
Co.,  Los  Angeles  $1.50  each.  Address:  1844  Santa  Cruz 
vStreet,  Los  Angeles,  California. 

BOOTHE,  CHARLES  BEACH,  b.  Stratford,  Conn.. 
July  3,  1851.  Ed.  Stratford  Acad.  1894  came  to  Los 
Angeles.  Pres.  Nat.  Irrigation  Congress,  1896-7. 
Writer  on  Conservation  of  National  Resources.  Ad 
dress:  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

BRANNICK,  LAURENCE,  b.  Scardene,  Co.  Mayo. 
Ire.,  May  24,  1874.  Ed.  St.  Jarlath's  College,  Tuam  and 
Maynooth  College.  B.  A.  1907  Univ.  S.  Calif.  Writer 
for  papers  and  magazines.  Especially  interested  in  per 
petuation  of  Gaelic  language.  Address:  Station  K., 
Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

BRIGMAN,  MRS.  ANNIE  W.,  b.  Honolulu,  Dec. 
3.  Came  to  California  in  young  girlhood.  Writer  of 
verses  to  accompany  her  own  artistic  photographs.  Ad 
dress:  647  32nd  St.,  Oakland,  Calif. 

BRININSTOOL.  E.  A.,  b.  Warsaw,  Wyoming  Co.. 
N.  Y.,  October  11,  1870.  Attended  common  school 
until  17.  In  1887  learned  printer's  trade.  In  1895  came 

394 


to  Calif.  In  1900  began  to  write  humorous  verse  for 
the  Los  Angeles  Times,  Record,  Examiner  and  Ex 
press.  Since  1905  on  Los  Angeles  Express  in  editorial 
paragraphs  and  a  short  column  of  verse  and  miscella 
neous  matter,  dubbed,  "Lights  and  Shadows."  Address: 
The  Express.  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

BROOKS.  FRED  EMERSON,  b.  Waverly,  N.  Y.. 
Dec.  5.  1850.  Grod.  Madison  (now  Colgate)  Univ.. 
1873.  Lived  in  S.  F.  1873-1891.  S.  F.  Call  styled  him 
California's  Celebration  Poet.  Writer  of  plays,  mag 
azine  articles,  etc.  Author:  Old  Ace  and  Other  Po 
ems.  Pickett's  Charge  and  Other  Poems,  (both  by 
Forbes  &  Co.,  Chicago.)  Address:  564  W.  182nd  St., 
Xew  York. 

BROWN,  HENRY  HARRISON,  b.  June  26,  1840. 
LTxbridge,  Mass.  Ed.  at  public  schools,  Nichols  Acad 
emy  at  Dudley,  Mass.,  and  Meadville,  Perm.,  Divinity 
School.  Began  to  teach  school  when  he  was  17,  and 
with  the  exception  of  three  years  in  service  during 
the  Civil  War  continued  teaching  till  he  was  30. 
Preacher  in  Unitarian  churches  for  7  years ;  lectured 
for  17  years  on  reformatory  topics.  Pub.  in  San  Fran 
cisco  from  I960  to  1906. Now:  A  Journal  of  Affirma 
tion.  Is  contributor  to  progressive  magazines  and  lec 
tures  extensively.  Author:  Concentration:  The  Road 
to  Success.  50c  and  $1.00.  How  to  Control  Fate 
Through  Suggestion.  25c.  Not  Hypnotism,  But  Sug 
gestion.  25c.  Man's  Greatest  Discovery.  25c.  Self 
Healing  Through  Suggestion.  25c.  The  Call  of  the 
Twentieth  Century.  25c.  Dollars  Want  Me:  The 
New  Road  to  Opulence.  lOc.  Address:  "Now"  Home, 
Glenwood.  Santa  Cruz  Co.,  Calif. 

BRUN,  SAMUEL  JACQUES,  b.  Mime,  Province  of 
Gard,  France,  of  Huguenot  parents.  Grad.  French 

395 


Univ.  Instructor  in  French  at  Haverford  College, 
Cornell  Univ.,  Stanford  Univ.  Now  an  attorney. 
Author:  Tableaux  de  la  Revolution  (a  French  reader, 
9th  ed.)  Tales  of  Languedoc  (Folk  Lore.)  $1.50.  Ad 
dress:  110  Sutter  St.,  and  1467  Willarcl  St.,  San  Fran 
cisco. 

BRUN,  MRS.  S.  J.,  nee  Hanna  Otis,  b.  Auburn,  N. 
Y.  Writer  for  magazines.  Address:  1467  Willard  St., 
San  Francisco. 

BURBANK,  BLANCHE  M.,  b.  West  Troy,  N.  Y. 
Has  lived  most  of  her  life  in  California.  Has  written 
poems  for  the  magazines.  Author:  Reed  Notes,  1905. 
Address:  Union  Square  Hotel,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

BURBANK,  LUTHER,  b.  Lancaster,  Mass.,  March  7, 
1849.  Ed.  at  Lancaster,  and  in  the  schools  of  adversity. 
Nature,  and  prosperity.  Author:  The  Training  of  the 
Human  Plant.  Address:  Santa  Rosa,  Calif. 

BURBANK,  WM.  F.,  b.  in  San  Francisco.  Hd.  Oak 
land  High  School  and  State  University.  Written  po 
ems  for  magazines,  etc.  Address:  Union  Square  Hotel, 
San  Francisco,  Calif. 

BURDETTE,  ROBT.  JONES,  b.  July  30,  1844. 
Greensboro,  Greene  Co.,  Penn.  Grad.  High  School, 
Peoria,  111.,  1861.  D.  D.  Kalamazoo  College,  1905! 
Writer  on  Peoria  Transcript  and  Evening  Review. 
Writer  and  afterwards  editor  Burlington  Hawkeye. 
Large  contributor  to  newspapers  and  magazines.  Pas 
tor  Temple  Baptist  Church,  July,  1903,  to  August,  1909. 
Resigned  through  ill  health.  Author:  The  Sons  of 
Asaph.  The  Life  of  William  Penn.  Smiles  Yoked 
With  Sighs,  19CO.  Rise  and  Fall  of  a  Mustache,  1877. 
Chimes  From  a  Jester's  Bells,  1897.  Address:  Sunny- 
crest,  Orange  Grove  Ave.,  Pasadena,  Calif. 

396 


BURGESS,  GELETT,  b.  Boston,  January  30,  1866. 
lid.  public  schools,  Boston.  (/'/-</</.  Massachusetts  In 
stitute  Technology,  B.  S..  1887.  Instructor  topo. 
drawing  University  of  California,  1891-4  \ss  Ed 
The  Wave,  1894-5.  Edited  Lark.  San  Francisco,  1895- 
7.  Author:  Vivette.  (novelette.)  Copeland  &  Dav 
1897.  $1.25.  The  Lively  City  O'Ligg,  (Juvenile)  F  \ 
Stokes  Co.,  1899.  $1.50.  Goops,  and  How  to  be  Them 
(Juvenile.)  Stokes  Co.,  1900.  $1.50.  A  Gage  of 
Youth,  (Poems,  chiefly  from  "The  Lark.")  Small 
Maynard  &  Co.,  1901.  $1.00.  The  Burgess  Nonsense 
Book,  (Prose  and  Verse.)  Stokes  Co.,  1901.  $2.00. 
The  Romance  of  the  Commonplace.  Elder  &  Shep 
herd,  S.  F.,  1901.  $1.50.  More  Goops.  and  How  Not 
to  Be  Them,  (Juvenile.)  Stokes  Co.,  1903.  $1.50.  The 
Reign  of  Queen  Tsyl.  Short  stories  in  collaboration 
with  WILL  IRWIN.  McClure,  Phillips  &  Co.,  1903. 
$1.50.  The  Picaroons.  Short  stories  in  collaboration 
with  WILL  IRWIN.  McClure,  Phillips  &  Co.,  1904. 
$1.50.  The  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Cayenne.  (Satire  and 
Parody.)  Stokes,  1904.  75c.  Goop  Tales.  (Juvenile  ) 
Stokes  Co.,  1904.  $1.50.  A  Little  Sister  of  Destiny. 
(Short  Stories.)  Houghton,  Mifflin  &  Co.,  1904,  $1.50. 
The  White  Cat.  (Novel.)  Bobbs-Merrill  Co..  1907. 
$1.50.  The  Heart  Line.  (Novel.)  Bobbs-Merrill  Co. 
1907.  $1.50.  The  Maxims  of  Methuselah.  (Satire  and 
Parody.)  Stokes  Co.,  1907.  75c.  Blue  Goops  and 
Red.  (Juvenile.)  Stokes  Co.,  1909.  $1.35  net.  Lady 
Mechante.  (4- wart  Novel.)  Stokes  Co.,  1909.  $1.50. 
Address:  1285  Commonwealth  Ave.,  Boston,  Mass. 

CARR,  SARAH  PRATT,  b.  Maine,  1850.  Taken  to 
California  1852.  Ed.  in  public  schools  of  California. 
Wrote  for  newspapers  and  magazines.  Short  time 
Unitarian  minister.  Author:  The  Iron  Way,  Me 
Clurg's.  $1.50.  Waters  of  Eden,  run  serially  in  Alas- 


ka-Yukon  magazine.  Billy  Tomorrow.  (Juvenile 
hook.)  McClurg's.  Address:  The  Hillcrcst,  Seattle, 
Wash. 

-  CARTER,  CHARLES  FRANKLIN,  b.  Waterhury, 
Conn.,  July  19,  1862.  Grad.  School  of  Fine  Arts,  Yale 
University.  Pupil  of  J.  Alden  Weir,  New  York  City. 
Resided  in  California  1891-95,  1898-1900.  Author:  The 
Missions  of  Nueva  California,  1900.  The  Whitaker  & 
Ray  Company.  $1.50.  Out  of  print.  Some  By- Ways 
of  California,  1902.  The  Graft  >n  Press,  New  York. 
$1.25.  Address:  232  S.  Main  St.,  Waterbury,  Conn. 

CHARLES,  FRANCES,  b.  San  Francisco,  Cal., 
April  10,  1872.  Hd.  S.  F.  public  schools.  Author:  In 
the  Country  God  Forgot.  The  Siege  of  Youth.  The 
Awakening  of  the  Duchess.  Pardner  of  Blossom 
Range.  All  by  Little,  Brown  &  Co.  $1.50  each.  Ad 
dress:  370  26th  Ave.,  Richmond  District,  San  Fran 
cisco,  Calif. 

CHENEY,  JOHN  VANCE,  b.  Groveland.  N.  Y., 
Dec.  29,  1848.  Grad.  Temple  Hill  Acad.,  Geneseo,  N. 
Y.,  at  17.  Practiced  law,  1875.  Came  to  California  in 
1876.  Librarian  Pub.  Library,  San  Francisco,  1887-94. 
Newberry  Lib.,  Chicago,  1894-1909.  Author:  The  Old 
Doctor,  1881.  Thistle  Drift  (poems)  1887.  Wood 
Blooms,  1888.  The  Golden  Guess,  1872.  That  Dome  in 
Air,  1895.  Queen  Helen,  1895.  Out  of  the  Silence, 
1897.  Lyrics,  1901.  Poems,  1905.  Editor  3  Caxton 
Club  pubs.  Address:  3390  Third  St.,  San  Diego,  Calif. 

CLARK,  GALEN,  96  years  old.  Went  to  Yosemite 
in  1853.  Known  as  Father  of  Yosemite.  Author:  Big 
Trees  of  California  :  Their  History  and  Characteristics. 
The  Indians  of  Yosemite :  Their  History,  Customs  and 
Traditions.  $1.00.  Paper  50c.  Address:  216  llth  St. 
Oakland,  Calif. 

398 


CONNOLLY,  JAMES,  b.  County  Cavan,  Ireland 
July  12,  1842.  In  1852  came  to  Dennis.  Mass.  ltd. 
public  schools.  At  13  went  to  sea,  at  18  second  mate, 
at  21  first  mate.  Later  master.  For  18  years  has  re 
sided  at  Coronado.  Writer  of  ^oems  and  short  stories 
for  magazines.  Author:  The  Jewels  of  King  Art. 
Address:  Coronado,  Calif. 

COX,  PALMER,  b.  Granby,  Quebec.  Can.,  April  ^28, 
1840.  Grad.  Granby  Academy.  In  1862  came  to  San 
Francisco  via.  Panama.  Contributed  to  Golden  Era. 
Alta  California,  and  Examiner,  etc.  Author:  Squibs 
of  California.  1874.  (Later  republished  as  Comic 
Yarns.)  Hans  Von  Petter's  Trip  to  Gotham.  How 
Columbus  Found  America.  That  Stanley."  Queer  Peo 
ple.  All  now  o.  p.  Then  he  invented  the  Brownies 
and  in  quick  succession  were  published  The  Brownies. 
Their  Book;  Another  Book;  The  B.'s  at  Home;  The 
B.'s  Around  the  World;  The  B.'s  Through  the  Union; 
The  B.'s  Abroad:  The  B.'s  in  the  Philippines.  $1.50 
each.  The  B.  Clown  in  B.  Town.  $1.00.  The  P>. 
Primer.  40c.  All  by  Century  Co.  The  B.  Calendar, 
McLoughlin  Bros..  N.  Y.  $1.00.  Palmer  Cox's  Brown 
ies.  Spectacular  play.  The  B.'s  in  Fairyland  (Child 
ren's  Cantata.)  Also  articles  in  leading  magazines. 
Address:  Pine  View  House,  East  Quogue,  L.  I. 

DAGGETT,  MARY  STEWART,  b.  Morristown,  O.. 
May  30,  1856.  Rd.  Steubenville,  O'..  Seminary,  1873. 
Writer  for  newspapers  and  magazinefs.  Author:  Mari- 
posilla,  1895.  The  Broad  Isle,  1899.  Address:  Co 
lumbia  Hill,  Pasadena,  Calif. 

DAVIS,  SAM  P.,  b.  Branford,  Conn.,  April  4,  1850. 
Xcwspaper  and  magazine  writer  for  40  years.  Lec 
turer  and  public  speaker — also  politician.  Author:  One- 
book  Short  Stories  and  Poems,  and  The  First  Piano 

399 


in  Camp.  Address:  Public  Industrial  Commission, 
Carson  City,  Nevada. 

DILLON,  HENRY  CLAY,  b.  Lancaster,  Wis.,  Nov. 
6,  1846.  lid.  public  schools  and  Lancaster  Academy. 
Grud.  Racine  College,  1872  (Gold  Medalist,  1870.) 
Came  to  California  in  1888.  Writer  of  clever  short 
stories  and  law.  Lecturer  on  Common  Law  Plead 
ing,  etc.,  University  of  Southern  Calif.  Address:  Colo 
rado  Orchards,  Long  Beach,  Calif.,  and  Los  Angeles, 
Calif. 

DONOVAN,  ELLEN  DWYER,  b.  Castletown, 
Beara,  Co.  Cork,  Ire.  lid.  Academy  Sisters  of  Mercy. 
Came  to  Calif,  and  contributor  to  leading  magazines  on 
Art  Criticism.  Writer  of  short  stories.  Will  shortly 
publish  a  Romance  of  Ireland  in  the  Nineteenth  Cen 
tury.  Address:  Ashbury  St.,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

EDHOLM-SIBLEY,  MARY  CHARLTON,  b.  Free- 
port,  111.,  Oct.  28,  1854.  lid.  public  schools  and  college. 
Writer  and  lecturer  on  social  and  economic  subjects. 
Founded  Lucy  Charlton  Memorial  for  unfortunate  wo 
men  and  children,  in  Oakland.  Author:  Traffic  in 
Girls.  30c.  Sales  go  to  help  the  Memorial.  Address: 
904-6  Security  Bldg.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

EDWARDS,  ADRIADNE  HOLMES,  b.  Placerville. 
Cal.,  May  7.  Student  of  Grand  Opera.  Writer  and 
composer  of  songs.  Author:  My  Nightingale,  Sing 
On  (words  and  music.)  O  Bonniest  Lassie  Yet.  En 
ticement.  Address:  Hotel  Hargrave.  112  W.  72nd  St., 
New  York. 

EMERSON,  WILLIS  GEORGE,  b.  near  Blakes- 
burg,  Monroe  Co.,  Iowa,  March  28,  1856.  lid.  district 
school,  Union  Co.,  la.  Attended  Knox  College,  Gales- 
burg,  111.  Studied  law.  Admitted  to  practice  in  !)is 
trict  U.  S.  and  other  courts.  Taught  country  school 

400 


for  four  years.  Platform  orator.  His  speech  replying 
to  "Coin"  Harvey's  Financial  School  was  issued  as  a 
Republican  campaign  document,  1896,  and  in  1900  over 
half  a  million  copies  of  his  speech  on  sound  money 
were  circulated  throughout  the  country.  Author:  Win 
ning  Winds,  1901.  Fall  of  Jason,  1901.  My  Pardner 
and  I,  1901.  Buell  Hampton.  1902.  The'  Builders, 
1905.  The  Smoky  God,  1908.  Has  written  over  100 
stories  of  travel  and  sketches  of  mining  camps  and 
mountain  scenery.  Address:  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

EVANS,  TALIESIX,  b.  Manchester,  Eng.,  Nov.  8. 
1843.  lid.  private  schools  England  and  Wales.  Author: 
Fisher's  Advt.  Guide  to  Calif.,  1870.  Editor  and  author 
of  Popular  History  of  Calif.  (Revised  and  enlarged. 
First  edition  by  Lucia  Norman),  1883.  American  Cit 
izenship.  1892.  Municipal  Government.  1892.  Address: 
212  Fourth  St.,  Oakland,  Calif. 

EYSTER,  MRS.  NELLIE  BLESSING,  b.  Freder 
ick,  Md.  Lived  in  California  since  1876.  Active  in 
W.C.T.U..  Indian  and  Chinese  mission  work.  Con 
tributor  to  magazines.  Lost  the  MSS.  of  two  books 
in  S.  F.  lire  of  1906.  Author:  Sunny  Hours,  or  The 
Child  Life  of  Tom  and  Mary.  Chincapin  Charlie.  On 
the  Wing.  Tom  Harding  and  His  Friends.  A  Colo 
nial  Roy.  A  Chinese  Quaker.  Address:  2618  Hillc- 
gass  Ave.,  Berkeley,  Calif. 

FAIRBANKS,  HAROLD  WELLMAN,  b.  Cone- 
wango,  Cattaraugus  Co..  N.  Y.,  Aug.  29,  1860.  ltd. 
State  Normal,  Fredonia,  N.  Y.  Grnd.  B.  S..  University 
Mich..  1890.  Ph.  D.,  University  Calif.,  1896.  Engaged 
in  geological  and  geographical  work :  State  Mining 
Bureau,  1890-1894.  Asst.  U.  S.  Geological  Survey, 
1897-98.  Author:  text  books:  Stories  of  Our  Mother 
Earth.  60e.  Nome  Geography.  Rocks  and  Minerals. 

401 


All    by    Kcl.    Pub.    Co.,    Boston.      Physiography   of   Call 
fornia.      Macmillan.      The    Western    United    States.      P. 
C.    Heath.      Practical    Physiography    for    High    Schools. 
Allyn   £    Bacrn.     Address:     Arch   St.,    Berkeley,   Calif. 

FORBES,  MRS.  A.  S.  C.  (nee  Harryc  Smith)  b. 
Pennsylvania.  Came  California  1895.  Works  for  re- 
establishment  of  El  Camino  Real.  Created  and  estab 
lished  Nat.  Naval  Memorial.  Author:  Mission  Tales 
in  Pays  of  the  Dons.  $1.50.  California  Missions  and 
Landmarks.  25c.  Address:  1104  Lyndon  St.,  South 
Pasadena,  Calif. 

GATES,  ELEANOR  (Mrs.  R.  W.  Tully.)  Ed. 
Stanford,  Univ.  of  Calif.  Leaped  into  fame  with  her 
first  book.  Biography  of  a  Prairie  Girl,  first  pub.  in 
Century  Magazine.  Author:  Biography  of  a  Prairie 
Girl,  1904.  The  Plow  Woman,  1907.  Cupid,  the  Cow 
Punch,  1908.  Good  Night,  1908.  Address:  Alma, 
Calif. 

GUINN,  J.  M.,  writer  of  History  of  Southern  Cali 
fornia.  Secretary  S.  Cal.  Hist.  Soc.  Member  Los  An 
geles  Board  of  Education.  Address:  5539  Monte  Yi>ia 
St.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

HART,  JEROME  ALFRED,  b.  San  Francisco.  Sept. 
6,  1854.  Ed.  Cal.  public  schools.  Asso.  editor,  1880-91, 
editor,  1891-1906.  San  Francisco  Argonaut,  to  which 
contributed  letters  of  foreign  travel  (1887-1904),  and 
translations  from  French.  German,  Spanish,  etc.  Sec. 
1880-91,  pres.  1891-1906.  of  The  Argonaut  Publishing 
Co.  Author:  Argonaut  Letters,  1900.  Two  Argonauts 
in  Spain,  1904.  A  Levantine  Log  Hook,  1905.  Argo 
naut  Stories  (edited)  1906.  Contributor  to  magazines, 
etc.  Address:  Wcyewolde,  Santa  Clara  Co.,  Calif. 

IIIBBARI),  GRACE,  b.  Mass.  /•</.  in  Mass.  Author: 
Wild  Poppies.  Moulton.  Buffalo.  N.  V.  $1.00.  Cali 

402 


fornia  Violets.  Robertson,  S.  F.  $1.00.  Wild  Roses 
of  California.  Robertson.  $1.0(1  Forget-Me-Nots 
From  California.  Robertson.  $1.00.  Booklets:  Mori- 
California  Violets.  25c.  California  Christmas  Songs. 
25c.  Daffodils.  25c.  Songs  of  the  Sainisen.  25c. 
'Xcath  Monterey  Pines.  25c.  Del  Monte  Oaks.  25e. 
Santa  Clans  Cheated,  and  Other  Cbristinas  Stories. 
Twenty-eight  poems  have  been  set  to  nmsie.  .-Id  dress: 
Pacilic  Grove.  Calif. 

HOLDEN,  EDWARD  SINGLETON,  b.  St.  Louis. 
Nov.  5,  1846.  Grad.  Wash.  I'niv..  1866.  West  Point 
1870.  Pros.  Univ.  of  Cal.  1885  8.  Director  Lick  Ob 
servatory  1888-98.  Librarian  I".  S.  Military  Acad. 
since  1901.  Author:  many  scientific  works.  See  Who's 
\\no.  Handbook  Lick  Observatory,  1888.  Mountain 
Observatories,  1896.  Pacific  Coast  Earthquakes,  1898, 
etc.  Address:  West  Point,  N.  V.,  and  Century  Clnb. 
New  York. 

HOWARD,  CLIFFORD,  b  .October  12.  18(>8.  Beth 
lehcm,  Pcnn!  Came  to  Calif,  in  1906.  Author: 
Thoughts  in  Verse.  1895;  (out  of  print.)  Sex  Worship: 
An  Exposition  of  the  Phallic  Origins  of  Religion,  1897. 
$1.50.  The  Story  of  a  Young  Man:  a  Life  of  Christ. 
1898.  $2.50.  Graphology,  1904.  50c.  Curious  Facts. 
191)5.  50c.  Washington  as  a  Center  of  Learning,  1905. 
$1.00.  The  Passover.  What  Happened  at  Olenberg. 
Address:  Los  Angeles.  Calif. 

HUNT,  ROCKWELL  DENNIS,  b.  Sacramento, 
Calif.,  Feb.  3,  1868.  Grad.  Napa  College.  Ph.  B.,  1890. 
A.M..  1902.  Johns  Hopkins  Univ.  Ph.D.,  1895.  Prof. 
Hist.  Napa  College,  1891-3.  Prof.  Hist,  and  Political 
Sc.,  Univ.  of  Pacific,  1895-1902.  Prin.  San  Jose  High 
School,  1902-1908.  Lect.  Stanford  Uniy.,  1898.  Prof. 
Economics  and  Sociology,  Univ.  of  S.  Calif.,  1908, 

403 


Author:     California    the    Golden.      Address:     1319    \V 
37th  Place,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

1RWIN,  WALLACE,  b.  Oneicla,  N.  Y.,  Mar.  15, 
1875.  Grad.  Denver  High  School,  1895.  At  Stanford 
Univ.,  1896-9.  Special  writer  S.  F.  Examiner,  Ed.  S. 
F.  News-Letter  1901,  and  Overland  Monthly  1902. 
Author:  Love  Sonnets  of  a  Hoodlum.  Paul  Elder,  S. 

F.  25c  and  50c.     Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khyyam,  Jr.     Paul 
Elder,   S.  F.     50c  and  75c.     Nautical  Lays  of  a  Lands 
man.     Dodd,  Mead  Co.,   N.  Y.     $1.00.     At  the  Sign  of 
tne   Dollar.     Duffield  &  Co.,    N.   Y.     $1.00.     Chinatown 
Ballads.     Duffield  &  Co.,  N.  Y.  $1.00.     Random  Rhymes 
and    Odd    Numbers.       Macmillan     Co.,     N.     Y.       $1.50. 
Shame   of  the   Colleges.     Outing   Pub.   Co.      Letters   of 
a  Japanese   Schoolboy.     Doubleday,   Page  &  Co.     $1.50. 
Address:    273  W.  84th  St.,  New  York. 

IRWIN,  WILL,  b.  Oneicla,  N.  Y.,  Sept.  14,  1873. 
Grad.  Denver  High  School,  1892.  Stanford  Univ.  A. 
B.  1899.  Contr.  fiction,  etc..  to  mags.  Ed.  S.  F.  Wave 
1900.  Ed.  McClurc's  1906-7.  Author:  Stanford  Sto 
ries  (with  C.  K.  Field),  19CO.  The  Reign  of  Queen 
Isyl  (with  Gelett  Burgess),  1903.  The  Picaroons  (with 

G.  Burgess),    1904.     The     Hamadyads     (verse),     1904. 
The  City  That   Was,   1907.     Address:    42  E.   28th   St., 
New   York. 

JAMES,  GEORGE  WHARTON,  b.  Gainsborough, 
Eng.,  Sept.  27,  1858.  Ed.  Queen  Elizabeth's  Grammar 
School.  Litt.  D.  Santa  Clara  College.  Author:  In 
and  Around  the  Grand  Canyon,  1900.  $2.50,  $10.00. 
Indian  Basketry,  1903.  $2.50."  Indians  of  the  Painted 
Desert  Region,  1903.  $2.00.  Traveler's  Hand-Book  to 
S.  Calif.,  1904.  $1.00.  How  to  Make  Indian  and  Other 
Baskets,  1903.  $1.00.  In  and  Out  of  the  Missions  of 
Calif.,  1905.  $3.00.  The  Story  of  Scraggles,  1906.  $1.00. 

404 


The  Wonders  of  the  Colorado  Desert,  1906.  2  vols. 
$5.00.  What  the  White  Raee  May  Learn  From  the 
Indian,  1906.  $1.50.  Through  Ramona's  Country.  1908. 
$2.00.  The  Grand  Canyon  of  Arizona,  1909.  *  $1.00. 
Ihe  Hero  Book  of  California,  1909.  $1.50.  Address: 
1098  N.  Raymond  Ave.,  Pasadena,  California. 

JENNEY,  ^CHARLES  ELMER,  b.  Mattapoisett, 
Mass.,  Sept.  5,  1872.  lid.  common  schools.  Came  to 
Calif.  (Fresno)  1891.  Author:  Scenes  of  My  Child 
hood.  1900.  $1.50.  Address:  219  Glenn  Ave.,  Fresno, 
Calif. 

JEPSOX,  WILLIS  LINN,  b.  Vacaville  township. 
August  19,  1867.  I:d.  at  California  and  Cornell  Univ 
Ph.  B.  1889.  Ph.  D.  1898.  Research  student  at  Mar 
yard  1896.  Royal  Gardens  at  Ke\v,  England  and 
Royal  Gardens  at  Berlin.  Germany,  1905-1906.  Ed.  of 
Erythea,  7  vols.,  1893-1900,  the  first  journal  of  botany 
published  west  of  the  Mississippi  River.  Author: 
Flora  of  Western  Middle  California.  Cunningham, 
Curtis  &  Welch.  $5.00.  High  School  Flora  for  the 
Pacific  Coast.  I).  Appleton  &  Co.  SOc.  The  Silva  of 
California.  Univ.  of  Calif.  Press,  in  type  since  Aug 
ust,  1908.  The  Trees  of  California."  Cunningham. 
Curtis  &  Welch,  S.  F.,  in  press.  Also  numerous  botani 
cal  papers  in  journals  and  proceedings  of  societies  and 
institutions.  Address:  2704  Hillegass  Ave..  Berkeley. 
Calif. 

JORDAN,  DAVID  STARR,  b.  Gainesville,  Wyo 
ming  Co.,  N.  Y.,  Jan.  19,  1851.  Grad.  Cornell  Univ. 
M.  S.  1872.  L.L.D.  1886.  L.L.D.,  Johns  Hopkins,  1902. 
Indiana  Univ.  1909.  Pres.  Indiana  State  Univ.,  1883- 
1891.  Came  to  Calif,  as  Pres.  Stanford  1891.  Author: 
Manual  of  Vertebrates.  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  $1.50 
Science  Sketches.  A.  C.  McClurg  &  Co.  $1.25.  Ani 

40;~> 


mal  Life.  Appleton.  $1.25.  Animal  Studies.  Apple- 
ton.  $1.75.  Footnotes  to  Evolution.  Appleton.  $1.50. 
Evolution  and  Animal  Life.  Appleton.  $1.50.  Im 
perial  Demoeraey.  Appleton.  $1.50.  Book  of  Knight 
and  Barbara.  Appleton.  $1.50.  The  Fate  of  Icio- 
dorum.  Henry  Holt  &  Co.  $1.00.  Fishes.  Henry 
Holt  &  Co.  $3.00.  Guide  to  the  Study  of  Fishes. 
Henry  Holt  &  Co.  $8.00.  Fish  Stories.  Henry  Holt 
&  Co.  $1.50.  Standeth  God  Within  the  Shade-. 
Thos.  Y.  Crowell  &  Co.  75c.  College  and  the  Man. 
75c.  Philosophy  of  Hope.  75c.  The  Innumerable 
Company.  75c.  Life's  Enthusiasms.  75c.  The  Strength 
of  Being  Clean.  75c.  The  Call  of  the  Twentieth  Cen 
tury.  75c.  Religion  of  a  Sensible  American.  75c.  The 
Higher  Sacrifice.  75c.  All  by  C.  L.  Stebbins,  Boston. 
Ine  California  Earthquake  of  1906.  A.  M.  Robertson. 
$2.50.  Luther  Burbank.  A.  M.  Robertson.  $1.50.  The 
Care  and  Culture  of  Men.  Whitaker  &  Ray.  $1.50. 
Matka  and  Kotik.  Whitaker  &  Ray.  $1.50.  The  Voice 
of  the  Scholar.  Paul  Elder  &  Co.  $1.50.  The  Stability 
•of  Truth.  Address:  Stanford  University,  Calif. 

JUDSON,  WILLIAM  LEES,  b.  Manchester,  Eng., 
April  1,  1842.  Studied  art  New  York,  London,  Paris. 
Studios  in  London,  Ont..  and  Chicago,  111.  Came  to 
California  1893.  Dean  of  Fine  Arts  Department  Uni 
versity  of  Southern  California  since  1906.  Contributor 
magazines  on  art  subjects.  Author:  The  Building  of 
a  Picture,  1898.  30c.  Address:  College  of  Fine  Arts, 
212  Thome  St.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

KEELER,  CHARLES,  b.  Milwaukee,  Wis.,  Oct.  7, 
1871.  Ed.  Milwaukee  and  New  York,  and  Berkeley 
High  Schools.  Special  course  Univ.  of  Calif.  Contr. 
to  magazines.  Author:  (Many  books  out  of  print.) 
Bird  Notes  Afield.  $2.00.  San  Francisco  and  There 
abouts.  Address:  2727  Dwight  Way,  Berkeley,  Calif. 

400 


KEEP,  JOSIAH,  b.  Paxton,  Mass.,  May  11,  1849. 
Ed.  Amherst  College.  A.  B.  1874.  A.  M.  1877.  Came 
to  Calif.  1877.  Since  1885  Prof,  of  Nat.  Sc.  in  Mills 
College.  Author:  Common  Sea  Shells  of  California, 
1881.  West  Coast  Shells,  1887.  Shells  and  Sea  Life, 
1901.  West  American  Shells,  1904.  (Most  of  these 
destroyed  in  S.  F.  fire,  1906.)  New  edition  of  West 
American  Shells  now  out.  Address:  Mills  College, 
Calif. 

KEITH,  ELIZA  D..  b.  _San  Francisco,  ltd.  S.  F. 
High  School.  Writer  editorial,  descriptive,  current 
topics  for  newspapers  and  magazines.  Public  speaker 
on  Civics  and  Patriotism.  Introduced  Flag  Salute  in 
S.  F.  schools.  Address:  1519  Jackson  St.,'  San  Fran 
cisco,  Calif. 

KERCHEVAL,  ROSALIE,  b.  Nov.  8.  San  Antonio, 
Texas.  Came  to  Calif,  when  a  few  months  old.  Wrote 
poems  for  papers  and  magazines.  Joint  author  with 
her  father  of  book  of  poems,  pub.  in  1883.  Address: 
1817  N.  Rosetta  St.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

KINNEY,  ABBOTT,  b.  Brookside,  N.  J.,  Nov.  16, 
1850.  Was  spl.  contr.  with  Helen  Hunt  Jackson  to 
report  on  Calif.  Mission  Indians.  Chairman  State  Bd. 
Forestry.  Author:  Conquest  of  Death,  1893.  Tasks 
by  Twilight,  1893.  Eucalyptus,  1895.  Forest  and 
Water,  1901.  Address:  Venice,  Calif. 

KIRKHAM,  STANTON  DAVIS,  b.  Nice,  France. 
Dec.  7,  1868.  Ed.  Calif,  public  schools  and  Mass.  Inst. 
of  Technology.  Author:  Mexican  Trails.  A  record 
of  travel  in  Mexico,  1904-1907.  and  a  glimpse  at  the 
life  of  the  Mexican  Indian.  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons, 
New  York.  $1.75.  The  Philosophy  of  Self-Hclp.  An 
application  of  Practical  Psychology  to  daily  life.  O. 
I'.  Putnam's  Sons,  New  York.  $1.25.  In  the  Open. 

407 


Intimate  studies  and  appreciations  of  Nature.  Paul 
Elder  &  Co.,  San  Francisco.  $1.75.  Where  Dwells 
the  Soul  Serene.  Philosophical  essays.  Paul  Elder  & 
Co.,  San  Francisco.  $1.50.  The  Ministry  of  Beauty. 
Philosophical  essays.  Paul  Elder  &  Co..  San  Fran 
cisco.  $1.50.  Ad dress:  Canandaigua,  N.  Y. 

KREBS,  MRS.  ABB  IE  E.,  b.  Providence,  R.  I., 
March  19.  1842.  Brought  around  Cape  Horn  to  San 
Francisco  in  childhood.  Writer  for  newspapers  and 
magazines.  Address:  Fair  Oaks,  San  Mateo  Co., 
or  The  Fairmount,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

LAWRENCE,  ALBERTA,  b.  Cleveland,  O.,  July 
20,  1875.  Hd.  New  York  City.  Writer  in  magazines. 
Eighteen  months  Assistant  Ed.  Literature,  Art  and 
Music.  Came  to  California  1904.  Organized  Strangers' 
League,  an  interdenominational  work  among  churches 
for  care  of  strangers.  Author:  The  Travels  of  Phoebe 
Ann.  $1.50.  Address:  1565  E.  Colorado  St.,  Pasa 
dena,  Calif. 

LAWRENCE,  MARY  VIOLET,  MRS.,  b.  Indiana. 
Came  to  California  in  early  fifties.  Wrote  sketches 
and  poems  for  newspapers  and  magazines.  Made  se 
lection  of  poems  to  which  Bret  Harte's  name  was  at 
tached,  known  as  "Outcroppings."  Address:  1034 
Vallejo  St.,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

LONDON,  CHARMIAN  (Kittridge),  writer  of 
poems  and  sketches  for  newspapers  and  magazines. 
Author:  The  Log  of  the  Snark — Jack  London's  sea 
voyage  around  the  world.  Address:  Glen  Ellen,  Calif. 

LONDON,  JACK,  b.  San  Francisco,  Jan.  12,  1876. 
ltd.  Oakland  High  School  and  Univ.  of  Calif.  Writer 
of  short  stories  and  essays  on  Political  Economy. 
Author:  Song  of  the  Wolf,  1900.  The  God  of  His 
Fathers.  1901. '  A  Daughter  of  the  Snows,  1902.  The 

408 


Children  of  the  Frost,  1902.  The  Cruise  of  the  Daz- 
zler,  1902.  The  People  of  the  Abyss,  1903.  Kempton- 
Wace  Letters,  1903.  The  Call  of  the  Wild,  1903.  The 
Faith  of  Men,  1904.  The  Sea  Wolf,  1904.  The  Game, 
1905.  War  of  the  Classes,  1905.  Tales  of  the  Fish 
Patrol,  1905.  Moon  Face,  1906.  White  Fang,  1907. 
Before  Adam,  1907.  Love  of  Life.  19(7.  The  Iron 
Heel,  19(7.  The  Road,  1907,  etc.  Address:  Glen  Fllen, 
Calif. 

LOUGHEAD,  MRS.  FLORA  HA1NES,  b.  Mil 
waukee,  \Vis.  Journalist  and  writer  of  short  stories 
for  magazines.  Reviewer  for  S.  F.  Chronicle  for  sev 
eral  years.  Author:  Libraries  of  California,  1878.  The 
Man  Who  Was  Guilty,  1836.  Handbook  of  Natural 
Science,  1886.  Quick  Cooking,  1890.  The  Abandoned 
Claim,  1892.  The  Man  From  Nowhere,  1892.  The 
Black  Curtain,  1897.  Address:  Alma,  Calif. 

LO\VE,  GEORGE  N.,  b.  near  Leicester,  England, 
in  1867.  /;</.  in  the  school  of  stern  life,  and  is  still 
getting  his  education.  Writes  verse  for  the  newspapers 
and  magazines.  Address:  2004  Shattuck  Ave.,  Berke 
ley,  California. 

LUMM1S,  CHARLES  FLETCHER,  b.  Lynn.  Mass., 
Alar.  1,  1859.  ltd.  Harvard.  A.B.  Litt.  D.  Santa 
Clara  College.  City  editor  Los  Angeles  Times  1885-7. 
Editor  Out  West  Magazine.  Librarian  Los  Angeles 
Public  Library  since  June  21,  1905.  Founder  and  pres 
ident  Landmarks  Club.  Founder  (1902)  and  chairman 
Exec.  Com.  Sequoia  League.  Founder  and  secretary 
South  West  Society  Archaeol.  Inst.  Am.  1903.  Author: 
A  New  Mexico  David,  1891.  A  Tramp  Across  the 
Continent,  1892.  Some  Strange  Corners  of  Our  Coun 
try,  1892.  Land  of  Poco  Tiempo,  1893.  The  Spanish 
Pioneers,  1893.  The  Man  Who  Married  the  Moon, 
1894.  The  Gold  Fish  of  Gran  Chimu,  1896.  The  En- 

409 


chanted  Burro,  1897.  The  Awakening  of  a  Nation, 
Mexico  Today,  1898.  Address:  200  E.  Ave.  43,  LOS 
Angeles,  Calif. 

LYNCH,  A.  E.,  b.  Tara  Hall,  Co.  Meath,  Ire.,  Nov. 
7,  1845.  lid.  Jesuit  Colleges,  Ire.,  and  Belgium.  Came 
to  California  1873  for  2  years.  Again  in  1886  under 
Gen.  Miles.  Six  years  in  Arizona  on  cattle  ranch. 
Contributor  poems  and  articles  to  magazines  and  news 
papers.  Address:  Commissary  Dept,  State  School, 
Whittier,  Calif. 

MANNIX,  MRS.  MARY  E.,  b.  New  York  City.  Re 
moved  with  parents  to  Cincinnati  when  very  young. 
Hd.  at  Mt.  Notre  Dame,  Reading,  Ohio.  Grad.  of  Con 
vent  of  the  Sisters  of  Namur.  First  story  and  verses 
published  in  the  Catholic  World,  when  nineteen  years 
of  age.  Since  that  time  has  written  for  nearly  all  the 
Catholic  magazines,  principally  the  Ave  Maria.  Writes 
fiction,  children's  stories,  verses,  biographies,  reviews, 
sketches,  and  translations  from  the  French,  German 
and  Spanish.  Author:  Life  of  Sister  Louise  of  Cin 
cinnati,  Ohio,  Superior  of  the  Mother  House  of  Amer 
ica,  Sisters  of  Notre  Dame  of  Namur.  The  Tales  That 
Tim  Told.  A  Life's  Labrynth.  Chronicles  of  the 
Little  Sisters.  The  Fortunes  of  a  Little  Emigrant. 
Pancha  and  Panchita.  As  True  as  Gold.  The  Child 
ren  of  Cupa.  Cupa  Revisited.  The  Haldeman  Child 
ren.  Lives  of  the  Saints  for  Catholic  Youth,  3  vols. 
The  Pilgrim  From  Ireland  (translated  from  the  Ger 
man  of  Dom  Maurus  Carnot,  O.S.B.)  Two  books  in 
press — My  Brother  and  I,  and  The  Eagle  and  the 
Chamois,  translated  from  the  German  of  Dom  Maurus 
Carnot.  Address:  1804  Fourth  St.,  San  Diego,  Calif. 

MARTIN,  LANNIE  HAYNES,  b.  Jan.  9,  1874. 
Blountville,  Tenn.  Ed.  Sullins  College,  Bristol,  Va., 
and  privately.  Came  to  Calif.  1905.  Contributor  to 

410 


eastern,   southern   and   western   magazines.     Volume   of 
verse  in  preparation.     Address:  Altadena,  Calif. 

MATHEWS,  AMANDA,  b.  Peoria,  111.,  Jan.  31, 
1866.  Came  to  Calif.  1877.  Ed.  Univ.  of  Cal.  Teacher. 
Author:  The  Hieroglyphics  of  Love.  $1.00.  Address: 
313  East  Ave.  60.  Los  Angeles.  Calif. 

McCRACKIN,  MRS.  JOSEPHINE  CLIFFORD, 
b.  1838,  Castle  Petershagen,  on  the  Weser,  Prussia. 
Came  to  St.  Louis,  Mo.,  1846.  Ed.  private  school. 
Came  to  Calif,  in  early  sixties.  One  of  earliest  writers 
on  Overland.  Writer  ever  since  for  leading  magazines. 
Organized  Bird  and  Tree  Protection  Soc.  of  Calif. 
Author:  Overland  Tales,  1876.  Another  Juanita,  1892. 
Address:  31  Union  St..  Santa  Cruz,  Calif. 

McGLASHAN,  C.  F,  b.  Janesville,  Wis.,  Aug.  12, 
1847.  Crossed  the  plains  to  Calif,  in  1854.  Editor 
Truckee  Republican.  Specially  interested  in  historic 
writing  of  the  Calif,  pioneers,  etc.  Has  made  an  inter 
esting  collection  of  relics  of  the  Dormer  and  other  pio 
neer  parties.  Author:  History  of  the  Donncr  Party. 
Address:  Truckee,  Calif. 

McGROARTY,  JOHN  S.,  b.  Penn.,  Aug.  20,  1862. 
fid.  public  and  parochial  schools  and  at  Hillman  Acad. 
In  1890  he  came  to  Calif.  Writer  of  songs  and  de 
scriptive  stories  for  newspapers  and  magazines.  On 
editorial  staff  Los  Angeles  Times.  Editor  West  Coast 
Magazine.  Author:  Just  California,  1907.  Wander 
Songs,  1908.  Address:  Care  of  West  Coast  Magazine, 
Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

McLEOD,  MALCOM,  b.  Prince  Edward  Island, 
Canada,  May  24,  1867.  Hd.  Dalhousie  College,  Halifax. 
N.  S.,  and  Princeton,  N.  J.  Author:  Heavenly  Har 
monics.  Earthly  Discords.  The  Culture  of  Simplicit> . 
A  Comfortable  Faith,  all  by  F.  H.  Revell  Co.  Address: 
969  San  Pasqual  St.,  Pasadena,  Calif. 
411 


MERLE,  MARTIN  V.,  b.  San  Francisco,  Calif.,  May 
27,  1880.  ltd.  Cooper  public  school,  St.  Ignatius  Col 
lege  and  Polytechnic  High  School,  San  Francisco. 
Grad.  A.  M.,  1906,  Santa  Clara  College,  Santa  Clara. 
Author  of  plays:  The  Light  Eternal.  The  Vagabond 
Prince.  And  a  one-act  play,  The  Lady  O'Dreams. 
Address:  714  Broderick  St.,  San  Francisco. 

MIGHELS,  MRS.  ELLA  STERLING,  b.  Califor 
nia.  Began  authorship  early.  Lady  manager  for  San 
Francisco  at  Chicago  World's  Fair.  M.  in  1896  Philip 
Verrill  Mighels.  Author:  The  Little  Mountain  Prin 
cess.  Loring,  Boston.  Portrait  of  a  California  Girl, 
in  collection  of  Stories  by  California  Authors.  Wag 
ner,  S.  F.  Story  of  Files  of  California.  Serial :  So 
ciety  and  Babe  Robinson.  Grizzly  Bear  Co.,  L.  A. 
ihe  Full  Glory  of  Diantha.  Forbes  &  Co..  Chicago. 
Address:  1605  Baker  St.,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

MIGHELS,  PHILIP  VERRILL,  b.  Carson  City, 
Nevada,  April  19,  1869.  Ed.  Carson  schools.  Studied 
law  in  Nev.  Art  in  N.  Y.  M.  Ella  Sterling  Cummings 
June,  1896.  Author:  Out  of  a  Silver  Flute  (poems.) 
Nella,  the  Heart  of  the  Army.  The  Crystal  Scepter. 
Bruvver  Jim's  Baby.  The  Ultimate  Passion.  Dunny, 
a  Mountain  Romance.  Sunnyside  Tad.  Beechy  Daw 
and  Other  Talcs.  When  a  Witch  is  Young.  The  Fur 
nace  of  Gold.  Address:  Care  of  Harper  &  Bros.,  New 
York. 

MILLARD,  BAILEY,  b.  Markesan,  Wis.,  Oct.  2, 
1859.  Lit.  Ed.  S.  F.  Examiner.  Author:  Great  Amer 
ican  Novel  (essays.)  She  of  the  West,  1900.  Songs 
of  the  Press,  1902.  The  Lure  O'Gold,  novel,  1904. 
Many  short  stories  in  magazines,  etc.  Address:  Pali 
sade!  N.  J. 

MILLARD,  GERTRUDE  B.,  b.  July  8th,  1872,  She 

412 


boygan,    Wis.      Came    to    California    Feb.,    1893,    from 
Jamestown,    N.    Dak.     £</.    Boston,    Mass,   and    James 
town,    N.    D.     Author   of   short    stories    for   magazines. 
Address:   San  Just,  Calif. 

MILLER,  JOAQUIN— the  Poet  of  the  Sierras,  b. 
in  Wabash  Dist,  Ind..  Nov.  10,  1841.  Editor  (1863) 
Eugene,  Ore.,  Democratic  Register.  Author:  The 
Building  of  the  City  Beautiful,  a  poetic  romance.  Com 
plete  Poems,  6  vols.,  1909.  Address:  The  Rights 
Dimond,  Calif. 

MILLER,  OLIVE  THORNE,  b.  Auburn,  N.  Y.,  June 
25,  1831;  Author:  True  Bird  Stories.  $1.00  net.  The 
First  Book  of  Birds.  $1.00.  School  edition,  60c  net. 
The  Second  Book  of  Birds.  $1.00  net.  Upon  the  Tree 
Tops.  $1.25.  Little  Brothers  of  the  Air.  $1.25.  A 
Bird-Lover  in  the  West.  $1.25.  Bird-Ways.  16mo, 
$1.25.  In  Nesting  Time.  $1.25.  With  the  Birds  in 
Maine.  $1.1C.  Our  Home  Pets.  $1.25.  Address:  5928 
Hays  Ave.,  Los  Angeles.  Calif. 

MILLS,   BENJAMIN  FAY,   b.   Railway.    N.   J..    lunc 
4,  1857.     Evangelical  Minister,  1878-1897."  Liberal  Min 
ister,  lecturer,  writer  and  social  reformer,  1897.  Found 
ed  The  Fellowship,  representing  "Religion  Without  Su 
perstition,"  1904.     Lived  in  California  1875-6,  1899— 
Author:   God's  World.     The  Divine  Adventure.    Twen 
tieth   Century  Religion.     The   New  Revelation.     Editor 
Fellowship   Magazine.     Address:   Los  Angeles.   Calif. 

MILLS,  MARY  RUSSELL  (Hill),  b.  Minneapolis 
June  24,  1859.  M.  to  Benjamin  Fay  Mills,  1879.  Co- 
founder  of  The  Fellowship,  1904.  Teacher  of  Emer 
son  and  the  Spiritual  Life.  Minister  of  the  Los  Ange 
les  Fellowship,  1904-8.  Associate  editor  of  the  Fellow 
ship  Magazine.  Author:  The  Art  of  Living.  The  Fel 
lowship  Religion,  and  numerous  essays  and  poems.  Ad 
dress:  Los  Angeles. 

413 


MILNE,  MRS.  FRANCES  MARGARET,  b.  Ire- 
land,  County  of  Tyrone.  Came  to  Calif,  in  1869.  Ed. 
at  home.  Author:  For  To-Day.  (Poems.)  James  H. 
Barry  Co.,  S.  F.  A  Cottage  Gray,  and  Other  Poems. 
C.  W.  Moulton,  Buffalo.  Heliotrope,  a  San  Francisco 
Idyll.  The  J.  H.  Barry  Co.  Address:  The  Public  Li 
brary,  San  Luis  Obispo,  Calif. 

MITCHELL,  EDMUND,  b.  Glasgow,  Scotland,  Mar. 
19,  1861.  Ed.  Elgin  Acad.  Aberdeen  Univ.  Grad. 
1881.  (Gold  Medalist  Eng.  Lit.)  Ed.  writer  Glasgow 
Herald.  In  1886  Asst.  Ed.  Times  of  India,  Bombay. 
In  1889  editorial  staff  of  Melbourne  Age.  In  1904, 
editorial  staff  Los  Angeles  Times.  Author:  The  Tem 
ple  of  Death.  75c  net.  Towards  the  Eternal  Snows. 
75c  net  Plotters  of  Paris.  75c  net.  The  Lone  Star 
Rush.  $1.50  net.  Only  a  Nigger.  $1.50  net.  The 
Belforts  of  Culben.  $1.50  net.  The  Despoilers.  $1.50 
net.  Chickabiddy  Stories,  $1.00  net.  In  Desert  Keep 
ing.  $1.50  net.  All  except  the  last,  originally  pub.  in 
England.  Now  imported.  To  be  had  from  author. 
Address:  1710  Hobart  Boulevard,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

MUIR,  JOHN,  b.  Dunbar,  Scot,  Apl.  21,  1838  Ed. 
in  Scotland  and  Univ.  of  Wis.  Discoverer  of  the  Muir 
Glacier,  Alaska.  Anther  of  many  articles  in  maga 
zines,  newspapers,  etc.,  on  physiography  and  natural 
history  of  the  Pacific  Coast,  etc.  Author:  The  Moun 
tains  of  California,  1894.  Our  National  Parks,  1901. 
Editor  Picturesque  California.  Address:  Martinez, 
Calif. 

MUNK,  JOSEPH  A.,  b.  Columbiana  Co.,  Ohio,  Nov. 
9,  1847.  Ed.  public  schools  Salem,  O.  Fought  in  Civil 
War.  In  1865  Mt.  Union  College,  Alliance,  O.  Grad. 
Eclectic  Med.  Inst.  of  Cinn.,  in  1867.  Came  to  Los 
Angeles  in  1892.  Has  great  collection  Arizoniana. 


414 


Author:  Arizona  Sketches,  1906.     Arizona   r>il)lio<>Tai>liv 
1908.     Address:   Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

NORTH.  ARTHUR  WALBRIDGE,  b  Marysville 
Ca1.,  Oct.  26,  1874.  Grad.  Oakland  High  School,  and' 
LTniv.  of  Cal.  A.  B.  1896.  Contributor  to  magazines 
and  reviews.  Author:  Mother  of  California,  an  his 
torical  and  geographical  review  of  Lower  California 
(Mex.)  Paul  Elder  &  Co.,  1908.  $2.00.  Camp  and 
Camino  in  Lower  California  (in  press.)  Raker  & 
Taylor  Co.  Address:  126  North  St.,  Walton,  N.  Y. 

OLDER,  MRS.  FREMONT  (Cora  Baggerly),  b. 
New  York.  Ed.  private  teachers  and  Syracuse  Univ. 
Author:  The  Socialist  and  the  Prince,  1902  Funk  & 
Wagnalls.  The  Giants.  1905.  Address:  The  Fair- 
mount,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

PAYNE,  EDWARD  B.,  b.  Vermont.  Ed.  Iowa  Col 
lege  and  Oberlin.  Grad.  in  1874.  Congr.  preacher. 
Berkeley,  Calif.  Became  Unitarian.  Preached  Spring 
field,  Mass.,  4  years;  Manchester,  N.  IT.,  2%  years; 
Leominster.  5  years ;  Berkeley,  Calif.,  5  years.  Founded 
Altruria,  near  Santa  Rosa,  a  co-operative  settlement  of 
60  members  and  pub.  a  magazine,  "Altruria."  Address- 
Glen  Ellen,  Calif. 

PERCIVAL,  OLIVE,  b.  July  1,  1868,  Sheffield,  111. 
Ed.  public  schools  Sheffield,  111.,  and  Cleveland.  Ohio. 
Author:  Mexico  City:  An  Idler's  Note  Book.  Ad 
dress:  906  Union  Trust  Bldg.,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

RADER,  WILLIAM,  b.  Cedarville,  Chester  Co..  Pa.. 
Dec.  17,  1862.  Pastor  2nd  Cong.  Church,  San  Fran 
cisco,  ten  years.  Now  pastor  Calvary  Pres.  Church. 
Editorial  writer  San  Francisco  Bulletin.  Author:  The 
Elegy  of  Faith.  1902.  Truths  for  Today,  1902.  Uncle 
Sam,  or  the  Reign  of  the  Common  People,  (in  Notable 

415 


Speeches  of  Greater  West.)      Liberty  and  Labor.     Ad 
dress:  2702  Laguna  St.,   San  Francisco,  Calif. 

RICHARDSON,  DANIEL  S.,  b.  Mar.^  19,  1851,  West 
Acton,  Mass.  Came  to  Calif,  in  1855.  lid.  public 
schools  of  S.  F.  and  Univ.  of  Calif.  Twice  decorated 
by  Emperor  of  Japan.  Writer  of  short  stories  and  po 
ems  for  magazines.  Author:  Trail  Dust  (poems)  1909 
.-Id dress:  221  Sansome  St..  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

REED,  AXXA  MORRISON1,  MRS.,  b.  Dubuqne,  la. 
Came  to  Calif,  when  an  infant.  l\d.  Mrs.  Perry's  Sem 
inary,  Sacramento.  Writer  and  lecturer.  Editor  and 
founder  Northern  Crown  Magazine;  Petaluma,  So 
noma  Co.,  Independent.  Author:  Poems,  1880.  Later 
Poems.  Address:  Petaluma,  Calif. 

SAIN,  CHARLES  McKNIGHT,  b.  Mt.  Pleasant,  O.. 
Mar.  11,  1863.  Traveler  ;md  writer  for  magazines,  etc 
Author:  An  Expectant  Heir  to  Millions,  1896.  The 
Serpent,  1902,  both  out  of  print.  The  Call  of  the  Muse 
(poems.)  Where  Rolls  the  Oregon  (poems.)  Ad 
dress:  Care  Mrs.  Lou  A.  Curran,  Hollywood,  Calif. 

SAMUELS,  MAURICE  V.,  b.  San  Francisco,  Oct. 
3,  1874.  Gmd.  1894  Univ.  Calif.  Lawyer  in  S.  F.  for 
7  years.  Playwright.  Author:  The  Florentines,  blank- 
verse  art-comedy,  Brentano,  1904.  $1.00.  Address: 
Hotel  St.  Margaret,  129  W.  47th  St.,  New  York  City. 

SAUNDERS,  CHARLES  FRANCIS,  b.  July  12. 
1859,  Bucks  County,  Penn.  Hd.  in  Philadelphia.  Grad. 
Friends'  Central  School.  Came  first  to  California  1902. 
Resided  in  Pasadena  since  1905.  Contributor  to  mag 
azines  of  both  coasts  on  subjects  covering  travel,  plant 
life,  the  Indians  of  the  Southwest,  etc.,  besides  occa 
sional  verse.  Editor  1894-7  of  "The  United  Friend," 
religious  monthly.  Philadelphia.  Author:  In  a  Poppy 
Garden.  R.  G.  Badger,  Boston,  1903,  and  wrote  des- 

416 


criptive  text  for  Mrs.  Saundcrs's  published  collection 
of  color  prints  entitled,  California  Wild  Flowers.  W. 
M.  Bains,  Philadelphia,  1905.  Address:  580  X.  Lake 
Ave.,  Pasadena,  Calif. 

SAUXDERS,  MARSHALL,  b.  in  Xova  Scotia. 
Lived  for  awhile  in  San  Francisco  and  in  California 
began  study  of  birds  and  animals.  Author:  Beautiful 
Joe.  $1.25.  My  Pets.  $1.25.  Several  other  books. 
Address:  28  Carleton  St.,  Halifax,  X.  S.,  Canada. 

SCHEFFAUER,  HERMAX,  b.  San  Francisco,  Feb. 
3,  1876.  Ed.  public  and  private  schools.  Studied  ar 
chitecture  and  art  at  Mark  Hopkins  Institute.  Writer 
for  newspapers,  magazines  and  reviews  in  France,  Eng 
land,  Germany  and  America.  Author:  Both  Worlds 
poems,  1903.  Looms  of  Life,  1908.  $1.25.  The  Sons 
of  Baldur,  1908.  XTiagara.  An  American  Romance  of 
four  generations,  19C9.  Sire  of  Bohemian  Club  Jinks. 
1908.  Address:  184  Eldridge  St.,  Xew  York. 

SCOTT,  JOSEPH,  b.  Penrith,  Cumberlanclshire, 
Eng.,  July  16,  1867.  Ed.  St.  Cuthbert's  College,  Ushaw, 
Durham.  Prof.  Rhetoric  and  Eng.  Lit.  St.  Bonaven- 
ture's  College,  Allegheny,  X.  Y.  Came  to  Calif.  1893 
Pres.  Board  of  Ed.  of  Los  Angeles.  Writer  on  Edu 
cational  and  Civic  Subjects  for  newspapers  and  mag 
azines.  Address:  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

SETOX,  GRACE  GALLATIX,  b.  Sacramento,  Calif., 
Jan.  28,  1872.  Ed.  Packer  Collegiate  Inst.,  Brooklyn. 
Writer  for  newspapers  and  magazines  of  America, 
England  and  France.  Author:  A  Woman  Tenderfoot. 
Nimrod's  Wife.  Doubleday,  Page  &  Co.  Address:  80 
W.  40th  St.,  Xcw  York,  "and  Wyndygoul,  Cos  Col), 
Conn. 

SEVERANCE,  -CAROLINE  MARIA  SEYMOUR, 
b.  Canandaigua,  XT.  Y.,  Jan.  12,  1820.  One  of  founders 

14    fayid  417 


and  first  president,  1868,  of  New  England  Woman's 
Club.  Known  as  "The  Mother  of  Women's  Clubs." 
Author:  The  Mother  of  Women's  Clubs  (with  Mrs. 
Ella  Giles  Ruddy.)  $1.00.  Address:  896  W.  Adams  St., 
Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

SEXTON,  MRS.  ELLA  M,  b.  111.  Ed.  in  St.  Louis, 
Mo.  Came  to  Calif,  in  1874.  Contributor  to  Eastern 
and  Pacific  Coast  magazines.  Author:  Stories  of  Cal 
ifornia.  Macmillan  &  Co.  California  at  Christmas- 
Tide  (poems).  Also  a  collection  of  Mission  poems  and 
one  of  Children's  Verse.  She  has  also  seven  one-act 
comedies  used  by  clubs  and  for  amateur  production. 
Address:  171  Parnassus  Ave.,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

SHINN,  CHARLES  HOWARD,  b.  Austin,  Texas, 
April  29,  1852.  Ed.  Univ.  of  Calif,  and  Johns  Hopkins 
Univ.  Taught  school.  Contributor  to  newspapers  and 
magazines.  For  ten  years  Inspector  Univ.  of  Calif.  Ex 
perimental  Stations.  Appointed  1902  head  forest  ranger 
Sierra  Reserve,  Calif.  Author:  Pacific  Rural  Hand 
book,  1879.  Land  Laws  of  Mining  Districts,  1884. 
Mining  Camps,  1885.  Co-operation  on  the  Pacific  Coast, 
1888.  Story  of  a  Mine,  1897.  Various  Forestry  Mono 
graphs,  etc.  Address:  Northfork,  Madera  Co.,  Calif. 

SHINN,  MILLICENT  WASHBURN,  b.  Niles, 
Calif.,  April  15,  1858.  Grad.  Univ.  of  Calif.  A.  B.  1880. 
Ph.  D.  1898.  Editor  Californian,  1882.  Editor  Over 
land  Monthly  1883-94.  Author:  Notes  on  the  Develop 
ment  of  a  Child  (also  in  German.)  The  Biography  of 
a  Baby,  1901.  The  Development  of  the  Senses,  and  the 
First  Two  Years  of  Childhood.  Also  poems,  stories, 
essays,  critiques,  etc.  Address:  Niles,  Calif. 

SHUEY,  LILLIAN  H.,^  MRS.  Has  lived  in  Calif, 
practically  all  her  life.  Ed.  public  schools  and  Napa 
branch  of  Univ.  of  Pacific.  Taught  16  years  in  public 

418 


schools.  Author:  David  of  Juniper  Gulch.  Laird  & 
Lee.  50c.  Don  Luis'  Wife.  Lamson  &  Wolffe.  50c. 
California  Sunshine,  The  Humboldt  Lily.  Among  the 
Redwoods  (verses.)  The  Necromancers  (a  novel,  in 
preparation.)  Address:  657  60th  St.,  Oakland,  Calif. 

SIMONDS,  WILLIAM  DAY,  b.  Rockford,  111.,  Mar. 
31,  1855.  Grad.  State  Normal  School,  Vt.  Spaulding 
Classical  Academy,  Barrie,  Vt.,  1880.  Studied  Amherst 
College  and  Chicago  Theological  Inst.  Pastor  First 
Unitarian  Church,  Oakland,  Calif.  Author:  Patriotic 
Addresses.  Sermons  From  Shakespeare.  Freedom  and 
Fraternity.  Address:  1233  First  Ave.,  Oakland,  Calif. 

SMYTHE,  WILLIAM  ELLSWORTH,  b.  Worces 
ter,  Mass.,  Dec.  24,  1861.  Initiated  Nat.  Irrigation  Con 
gress,  1891.  Sec.  until  1893,  chairman  until  1895.  Est. 
Irrigation  Age,  1891.  Edited  it  until  1896.  Lecturer 
and  writer  on  Irrigation  and  Economic  Problems. 
Author:  The  Conquest  of  Arid  America.  Construct 
ive  Democracy.  History  of  San  Diego,  2  vols.  Address: 
1448  C  St.,  San  Diego,  Calif. 

SOSSO,  LORENZO,  b.  Mar.  2,  1867,  Turin,  Italy. 
Came  to  Calif,  in  July,  1875.  Author:  Poems,  1888. 
Poems  of  Humanity,  1891.  In  Realms  of  Gold,  1902. 
Proverbs  of  the  People,  1903.  Wisdom  of  the  Wise, 
1905.  Address:  179  De  Long  Ave.,  San  Francisco, 
Calif. 

STELLMAN,  LOUIS  J.,  b.  Baltimore,  Md.,  Jan.  6, 
1877.  Came  to  Calif.  July,  1896.  Connected  S.  F.  Ex 
aminer  since  1897.  Wrote  "Observer"  Sketches  for  L. 
A.  Herald,  published  in  book  form  1903.  Whitaker  & 
Ray.  75c.  Address:  Press  Club,  San  Francisco,  Calif. 

STIMSON,  JOHN  WARD,  b.  Paterson,  N.  J.,  Dec. 
16,  1850.  Grad.  Yale,  1872.  Also  Ecole  des  Beaux  Arts, 
Paris.  Lecturer  and  art  teacher  Princeton  Univ.  Assoc. 

419 


editor  The  Arena.  Contributor  to  various  art  exhibitions 
and  magazines.  Author:  The  Law  of  Three  Primaries. 
Principals  of  Vital  Art  Education.  The  Gate  Beauti 
ful.  Wandering  Chords,  etc.  Address:  14  W.  48th  St., 
New  York. 

STROBRIDGE,  IDAH  MEACHAM,  b.  Contra  Costa 
Co.,  June  9,  1855.  lid.  Mills  Seminary.  Contributor  to 
newspapers  and  magazines.  Author:  In  Miner's  Mir 
age  Land,  1904.  DeLuxe,  $600.  The  Loom  of  the 
Desert,  1907.  $1.75.  DeLuxe  $6.00.  The  Land  of  the 
Purple  Shadows,  1909.  $1.75.  DeLuxe  $6.00.  All  pub. 
by  Artemisia  Bindery.  Address:  Artemisia  Bindery, 
231  E.  Ave.  41,  Los  Angeles,  Calif. 

SUTHERLAND,  HOWARD  V.,  b.  Cape  Town. 
South  Africa.  Ed.  England  and  Germany.  Author. 
The  Legend  of  Love.  ^The  Old,  Old  Story.  Jacinta, 
a  California!!  Idyll.  Bigg's  Bar,  and  Other  Klondike 
Ballads.  Songs  of  a  City.  Idylls  of  Greece.  $1.00. 
Ditto  second  series.  $1.00.  Address:  314  Seventeenth 
St.,  Denver,  Colo. 

SYMMES,  HAROLD  S.,  b.  San  Francisco.  1877.  Ed. 
public  schools.  B.  A.  Univ.  of  California,  1899.  Doc 
tor's  degree  sumina  cum  laude  Univ.  of  Paris,  1903. 
Was  appointed  to  Columbia  Univ.,  department  of  Eng 
lish,  the  same  year.  Author:  Lcs  Debuts  de  la 
Critique  Drainatlque  en  Angleterrc,  1903.  Out  of  print. 
Contributor  of  verse  and  prose  to  American  and  Eng 
lish  periodicals.  Address:  Garden  St.,  Redlands,  Calif. 

TULLY,  RICHARD  WALTON.  Hd.  Univ.  of  Calif. 
Writer  of  short  stories  and  plays.  Rose  of  the  Rancho, 
in  collaboration  with  David  Belasco,  has  had  a  most 
successful  run.  Address:  Alma,  Calif. 

URMY,  CLARENCE,  b.  San  Francisco,  July  10,  1858. 
lid.  public  schools  and  Napa  College.  Contributor 

420 


poetry  to  all  the  leading  magazines,  East  and  West. 
Author:  A  Rosary  of  Rhyme,  1884.  A  Vintage  of 
Verse,  1897.  Address:  San  Jose,  Calif. 

WATERHOUSE,  A.  J.,  b.  May  27,  1855,  in  Wis 
consin.  Ed.  public  schools  in  Wisconsin,  High  School, 
Rochester,  Minn.,  and  Ripon  College,  Wis.  Writer  for 
newspapers  and  magazines.  Asst.  editor  The  Califor 
nia  Weekly  S  F.  Author:  Some  Homely  Songs,  1899. 
Lays  for  Little  Chaps,  1902.  Address:  2422  McGee 
Ave.,  Berkeley,  Calif. 

WHITAKER,  HERMAN,  b.  Huddersheld,  Eng., 
Jan.  14,  1867.  Hd.  public  school.  Served  in  British 
army,  2nd  Battalion  W.  Riding  Reg.  1884-5.  Author: 
The  Probationer.  The  Settler.  The  Planter.  All  pub. 
by  Harper  Bros.  $1.50  each.  Address:  220  James  Ave.. 
Oakland.  Calif. 

WILEY,  HARLEY  RUPERT,  b.  Wisconsin,  April 
5,  1855.  Trekked  to  Calif.  1865-6.  Hd.  Santa  Rosa. 
Calif.  Univ.  of  Calif.  (L.L.B.)  Past  twelve  years  lec 
turer  on  Jurisprudence  in  Univ.  of  Calif.  Writer  011 
Law,  and  verse  for  magazines,  .-id dress:  Faculty  Club. 
Berkeley,  Calif. 

WILLARD,  CHARLES  DWIGHT.  b.  Bloomington. 
111.,  Jan.  20,  1860.  lid.  public  school,  Chicago.  A.  B. 
1883  Univ.  of  Mich.  Came  to  Calif,  in  1888.  Writer 
of  short  stories  and  on  civic  matters.  Author:  History 
of  Los  Angeles.  The  Free  Harbor  Contest.  History 
of  Los  Angeles  Chamber  of  Commerce.  City  Govern 
ment.  Address:  Los  Angeles.  Calif. 

WILSOX,  MRS.  IDA  MANSFIELD,  play-wright, 
dramatic  critic,  actress,  lecturer.  Writes  plays  and 
magazine  articles.  Address:  2020  Clinton  Ave.,  Ala- 
meda.  Calif. 

421 


YORKE,  PETER  CHRISTOPHER,  b.  Aug.  15, 
1864,  Galway,  Ire.  Ed.  St.  Jarlath's  College,  Tuam, 
Maynooth,  and  the  Cathedral  University  of  America. 
Made  S.  T.  D.  by  Pius  X.,  1906.  Regent  State  Uni 
versity.  Writer  and  lecturer  on  religious  topics. 
Address:  Oakland,  Calif. 

ZEPHYRIN,  FR.  (Charles  Anthony  Englehardt),  b. 
Hanover,  Bilshausen,  Germany,  Nov.  13,  1851.  Came 
to  N.  Y.  Dec.  8,  1852.  Ed.  public  schools.  Classics  in 
Franciscan  College.  Entered  Franciscan  order,  in 
Tentopolis,  111.,  Sept.  22,  1872,  making  profession  Csept. 
28,  1873.  Ordained  June  18,  1878.  In  1880  began  work 
among  Menominee  Indians  in  Wis.  1894  to  Adrian, 
Harbor  Springs,  Mich.,  Indian  School.  Studied  Indian 
languages,  etc.,  21  years.  Historian  of  Franciscan 
Order  in  Calif.  Author:  Franciscans  in  California. 
Franciscans  in  Arizona.  Missions  and  Missionaries  of 
California,  3  vols.,  (first  vol.  out.)  Address:  The  Or 
phanage,  Watsonville,  Calif. 


Here  endeth  the  quotations 
from  living  California  Auth 
ors  selected  by  George  Whar- 
ton  James  and  done  by  him 
into  this  book  at  the  Arroyo 
Guild  Press,  201  Avenue 
66,  (Garvanza),  Los  Angeles, 
Calif.,  in  the  year  of  Our 
Salvation  One  Thousand 
Nineteen  Hundred  and  Xine 


The  California  Classics  Series 

George  Wharton  James  expects  to  issue  dur 
ing  1910  six  of  these  dainty  little  booklets  on 
distinguished  California  authors.  Each  will 
contain  several  choice  selections,  with  an  ap 
preciation  of  the  author.  The  series  will  be 
handsomely  printed  and  daintily  bound,  and 
when  completed  will  form  a  rare  and  unique 
library  of  especial  interest  to  Californians. 
This  is  the  list  for  1910 : 

No.  1.  Charles  Warren  Stoddard. 

2.  Henry  George. 

3.  John  Muir. 

4.  Joaquin  Miller. 

5.  W.  C.  Bartlett. 

6.  Edward  Rowland  Sill. 

Separately,  $1.00  net,  each;  the  six  num 
bers,  $5.00. 

Send  your  orders  to 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES, 
1098  N.  Raymond  Ave.,  Pasadena,  Calif. 


Of  Great  Helpfulness  to  all  Studen*s  of  California  Literature 

SYLLABUS 

of  a  Course  of  Lectures  on 

CALIFORNIA     LITERATURE    AND    ITS     SPIRIT 

By  George  Wliarton  James 

Nineteen  Lectures  are  outlined  as  follows: 
Lecture  I.      Introductory. 

II.      The  Literature  of  the  Aborigines. 

III.  Literature  of  the  Epoch  of  Spanish  Dis 

covery. 

IV.  Literature  of  the  Padres. 
V.      Literature  of  the  Pioneers. 

VI.      The  Founding  of  the  Overland  Monthly. 
VII.      Joaquin  Miller,  the  Poet  of  the  Sierras. 
VIII.      The  California  Humorists. 
XI.      Ambrose  Bierce,  the  last  of  the  Satir 
ists,     and    his    two     pupils,      George 
Sterling  and  Herman  Scheffauer. 
X.      Edwin   Markham,   "The    Poet    of     Hu 
manity." 

XI.      The  Nature  Writers. 
XII.      A  Cycle  of  Early  Verse. 

XIII.  The  Poets  of  San  Jose. 

XIV.  Religious  Verse  of  California. 
XV.      A  Cycle  of  Later  California  Verse. 

XVI.      The  History  Writers  of  California. 
XVII.      Some  California  Novelists. 
XVIII.      A  Sextette  of  Women  Novelists:      Ger 
trude    Atherton,     Geraldine    Bonner, 
Gwendolyn  Overton,  Frances  Charles, 
Miriam  Michelson,  Eleanor  Gates. 
XIX.      The    Young     Giants.      A  Trio   of   Cali 
fornia  Novelists:     Frank  Norris,  Jack 
London,  Herman  Whitaker. 
PRICE,  FIFTY  CENTS. 

ARROYO  GUILD  PRESS, 
201  Avenue  66,  Los  Angeles,  Cal. 


WILL  BE  ISSUED  IN  NINETEEN-TEN 

The  California 
Hero    Book 

Thrilling,  Interesting,  Instructive,  Inspiring  Stories 

of  the  Heroes  and  Heroines  of  California,  told 

in  graphic  and  enthusiastic  fashion  by 

GEORGE  WHARTOX  JAMES 

Among  other  stories  told  are  those  of  Alarcon, 
Melchior  Diaz,  Padre  Junipero  Serra,  Captain  Juan 
Bautista  de  Anza,  Padre  Sarria,  the  Patties, 
Jedediah  Smith,  Stanton  of  the  Donner  Party, 
Virginia  Reed  Murphy,  Kit  Carson  and  Lieutenant 
Beale,  James  King  of  William,  Judge  Belden,  Judge 
Field,  Senator  Baker,  Clarence  King,  Thomas  Stan- 
King,  W.  L.  Manly,  Jim  Beckwourth,  James  Capen 
Adams;  Judah,  the  Railway  Engineer;  The  Builders 
of  the  Central  Pacific  Railway;  The  Reclaimers  of 
the  Imperial  V^ley;  Judge  North,  the  founder  of 
Riverside;  Professor  T.  S.  C.  Lowe;  W.  E.  Smythe, 
the  originator  of  the  National  Irrigation  Congress, 
and  the  "Little  Landers";  Henry  George,  the  politi 
cal  reformer,  etc,  etc. 

Every  boy  and  girl  in  California  should  own  and 
read  this  book.  Crown  8vo.  $1.50  net. 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES, 
1098  North  Raymond  Ave.,  Pasadena,  CaL 


ADVANCE      ANNOUNCEMENT 


CALIFORNIA   LITERATURE 
AND  ITS  MAKERS 

For  nearly  thirty  years  George  Wharton  James 
has  been  preparing  for  the  publication  of  his  history 
of  California  Literature  and  its  makers.  The  work 
will  be  in  three  large  quarto  volumes  and  will  not 
only  constitute  a  History  of  California  Literature, 
but  in  the  truest  sense  will  be  a  key  to  California's 
history,  viewed  from  every  standpoint.  It  will  be 
history  at  first  hand,  digested  and  arranged  by  an 
enthusiastic  and  devoted  student. 

Every  private,  public  and  school  library  in  Cali 
fornia  should  possess  this  extensive  work,  not,  per 
haps,  for  reading,  but  as  a  work  of  reference,  and 
students  and  libraries  outside  of  the  State  will  find 
it  a  valuable  acquisition. 

Its  preparation  has  been  a  labor  of  love  to  its 
author,  and  he  has  spared  neither  time  nor  expense 
(within  his  limited  means)  to  make  it  as  complete 
and  comprehensive  as  its  theme  is  notable  and 
exalted.  To  meet  the  expense  of  its  publication, 
however,  it  is  necessary  that  a  sufficient  number  of 
ADVANCE  SUBSCRIPTIONS  be  obtained,  and 
these  are  confidently  solicited.  The  three  volumes 
will  be  issued  at  Fifteen  Dollars  each,  or  Thirty 
Dollars  for  the  set,  bound  in  law  calf  or  cloth;  in 
half  morocco  Twenty  Dollars  each,  or  Fifty-five 
Dollars  for  the  set;  in  full  levant,  Fifty  Dollars  a 
volume,  or  One  Hundred  and  Twenty  Dollars  for 
the  set. 

Correspondence  upon  the  subject  is  respectfully 
asked  and  your  subscription  earnestly  solicited. 

GEORGE  WHARTON  JAMES, 
1098  N.  Raymond  Ave.,  Pasadena,  Cal. 


IN  PREPARATION-A  HIGH  SCHOOL  TEXT  BOOK  • 

CALIFORNIA    LITERATURE 

By  George  Wharton  James 

Why  should  not  the  youth  of  our  Golden  State  be 
mentally  fed  upon  the  literature  which  recounts  in 
sitrring  words  the  brave,  heroic,  noble  and  worthy 
deeds  of  the  founders  of  the  State.  There  are  epics 
as  grand  and  moving-  as  those  of  Homer,  though  less 
bloody  and  cruel,  and  deeds  as  noble  and  tender  as 
any  chronicled  by  Tennyson,  Longfellow  or  other  mas 
ters  of  epic  poetry.  This  text  book  will  contain  chap 
ters  somewhat  as  follows.  Extensive  and  interesting- 
sections  will  be  made  from  the  various  works  of  poets 
and  prose  writers  and  thus  a  direct  and  personal 
knowledge  of  the  literature  of  the  State  will  be  ob 
tained. 

Introductory.  1.  California's  Historic  Destiny.  2. 
California's  Scenic  and  Climatic  Environment  and 
Their  Influence  Upon  Literature.  3.  The  Pioneer  Basis 
of  Its  Civilization.  4.  The  California  Spirit  and  Its 
Development.  5.  Heroes  and  Heroines.  6.  The  Litera 
ture  of  the  Aborigines.  7.  The  Literature  of  Spanish 
Discovery.  8.  The  Literature  of  the  Padres  and  of 
Mission  Days.  9.  The  Literature  of  the  Pioneers  Prior 
to  the  Military  Invasion.  10.  The  Literature  of  the 
Military  Invasion.  11.  The  Literature  of  the  Gold 
Pioneers.  12.  The  Literature  of  the  Mining  Camps. 
13.  The  -Founding  of  the  Overland  Monthly.  14.  The 
Poet  of  the  Sierras, — Joaquin  Miller.  15.  The  Last  of 
the  Satirists,  Ambrose  Bierce  and  His  Friends,  George 
Sterling  and  Herman  Scheffaur.  16.  Edwin  Markham, 
the  Poet  of  Humanity.  17.  The  Nature  Writers  of  Cali 
fornia.  18.  The  Humorists  of  California.  19.  The 
Earlier  Poets  of  California.  20.  The  History  Writers 
of  California.  21.  The  Dramatic  Writers  of  California. 
22.  Some  Great  Editors  of  California.  23.  The  Orators 
of  California.  24.  The  Forensic  Literature  of  Cali 
fornia.  25.  The  Scenic  Literature  of  California.  26. 
The  San  Jose  Poets.  27.  The  Religious  Poets  of  Cali 
fornia.  28.  The  Later  Poets  of  California.  29.  The 
Short  Story  Writers  of  California.  30.  The  Men  Novel 
ists  of  California.  31.  The  Women  Novelists  of  Cali 
fornia.  32.  California's  Place  in  the  Literature  of  the 
World. 

This  Text  Book  will  contain  about  400  pages,  large 
8vo,  and  its  price  will  be  $2.50  net.  Advance  sub 
scriptions  are  earnestly  solicited,  as  well  as  sugges 
tions  from  Literature  and  History  teachers  who  are 
interested  in  the  subject. 

GEORGE    WHARTON   JAMES. 
1098   N.   Raymond  Ave.,   Pasadena,   Cal. 


OVERDUE.    1J    «'-00    0N    THE 


YB   1349 


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